CIHM 
Microfiche 


(l\/lonograplis) 


ICMH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographies) 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  canad>en  de  microreproductions  historiques 


I 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best  original 
copy  available  for  filming.   Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bibliographically  unique,  which  may  alter  any 
of  the  images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming,  are 
checked  below. 


n 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommagee 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restauree  et/ou  pelliculee 


□  Cover  title  missing/ 
Le 


n 

D 

n 
0 


titre  de  couverture  manque 


Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  geographiques  en  couleur 


Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blr.ie  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


n 


Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Relie  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serree  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distorsion  le  long  de  la  marge  interieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have 
been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutees 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  etait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  ete  filmees. 


Additional  comments:/    Pagination  is  as  follows 
Commentaires  supplementaires: 


L'Institut  a  microfilme  le  meilleur  exemplaire  qu'il 
lui  a  ete  possible  de  se  procurer.   Les  details  de  cet 
exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-etre  uniques  du  point  de  vue 
bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier  une  image 
reproduitc,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modification 
dans  la  methode  normale  de  filmage  sont  indiques 
ci-dessous. 

□  Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 

□  Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagees 

□  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaurees  et/ou  pelliculees 

I     /  I  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
l__J  Pages  decolorees.  tachetees  ou  piquees 

□  Pages  detached/ 
Pages  detachees 


mShowthrough/ 
Transparence 

I        I  Quality  of  print  varies/ 


Qualite  inegale  de  I'impression 

Continuous  pagination/ 
Pagination  continue 


□ 

□  Includes  index(es)/ 
Comprend  un  (des)  index 

Title  on  header  taken  from:/ 
Le  titre  de  Ten-tfite  provient: 

□  Title  page  of  issue/ 
Page  de  titre  de  la  livraison 

□  Caption  of  issue/ 
Titre  de  depart  de  la  li 

n 

[i]-[x],   [Ij-[2I2],   [5]-22i|  p. 


vraison 


Masthead/ 

Genefique  (periodiques)  de  la  livraison 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  filme  au  taux  de  reduction  indique  ci-dessous. 

my 


r~~^ 

F^^^ 

lOA 

22X 

26  X 

30X 

y 

^^    .... 

1 

1 

l-iy 

12X 

16X 

20X 

24X 

28X 

The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 


Douglas  Library 
Queen's  University 


L'exemplaire  film6  fut  reproduit  grfico  d  la 
g6n6rosit6  de: 

Douglas  Library 
Queen's  University 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Crigmal  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  tne  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  ^^>  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettetd  de  I'oxempiaire  film6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 

Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprim^e  sont  filmds  en  commen^sant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  film6s  en  rommen9ant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE".  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  §tre 
filmds  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  cliche,  il  est  filmd  d  partir 
de  i'angle  supdrieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite. 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n^cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mdthode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHAR  I  No.  2) 


1.0 


i.l 


1.25 


I  5,0 


2.8 

02 
3.6 


U      1^ 

jBO 


1.4 


IS 

2.? 

2£ 

1.8 


^     APPLIED  IIVMGE 


inc 


16'-3   East   Main   Street 
Rochester,   New  York         U609 
(716)   482  -0300 -Phone 
(716)   288-  0989  -Fax 


USA 


)  '■] 


ROUGIIINa  IT  IN  THE  BUSH; 


0B» 


LIFE  IN  CANADA. 


BY       SUSANNA       MOODIE. 


I  ilcetch  fVoni  Nnture,  and  the  pioturo'a  true ;. 
Wlmte'e?  the  subject,  whether  jfrnve  or  gay^ 
Paioful  experience  ia  a  dUtant  laud 
Mad«  it  oiiiie  onu. 


COMPLETE   IN   ONE   VOLUME. 


NEW-YOEK : 

G.  P.  PUTNAM  &  COMPANY,  10  PARK  PLAOK 

1852. 


LT 


Mq.^ 


/^^^ 


5:L 


PKUFACE  TO  THE  AMERICAS  EDITIOS. 


80  fan  of  freshness,  truth  and  humour,  the  tone  that 

pervades  :ts  entertaining  pages  is  so  healthy,  and  the 

essons  >t  teaehes  are  so  profitable,  that  it  wa'  though 

a  pity  for  Its  w.de  circulation  to  be  endangered  by  L 

Tbtr  7  ""~ """-  '^-  -' '"  ^-eL 

ite  bulk  and  .ts  cost  without  adding  to  ite  value.     The 
accomphshed  and  heroic  author  will  not,  therefore  be 
d.sposed  to  complain  that  her  work  shouW  have  unlr 
gone  a  careful  excision  of  certain  pa.,  ,  ,.es  of  a  pu^  1 
personal  or  political  character,  which  could  have  pos 
sessed  no  mterest  for  the  American  reader,  and  theLs 
of  wh,eh  wm  be  compensated  by  the  gain  of  a  larger 
aud,ence  than  she  could  have  otherwise  hoped  for 

Mrs.  Moodie  is  a  true  heroine,  and  her  simple  narra- 
t.ve  IS  a  genuine  romance,  which  has  all  the  interest 
of  an  imaginative  creation.     Her  sister,  Miss  Agnes 


^      .« 


s  5  ;  I 


/  ^>.  jf"', 


I  l.^±U^ 


r 


'."^.r^r  """-•"«  tir.T 

»   or  more  courao-eous  ir.  *i,  •       ^°^^^^  t^  her 
*'"  be  found  developed  LThef  ,""  '"'""*^"''  "^^» 

oontains  several  small  poen,s  b v  M     !  "  '"  *«  ^«»''" 
i'-f'^nd,   .hfci  ,^J12  J^f--  Moodie  and  her 

^«"'cr  retarded  the  /low  of  ^.r  "''  '^"""^  "'•'y 
Po^^ess  sufficient  interest  fnt  """'""''  ""''  '^''^  "^t 
''PoJogy  for  their  presen  ''""^^^  '°  --e  as  an 


^■»  VoEK,  ^„„,  1852. 


C.  F.  B. 


»    » 

0   :< 


•    / 


r^ 


•*<*|!'>il. 


■V^ 


a 


ADVERTISEMENT  TO  THE  LONDON  EDITION. 


•^>»- 


JN  justice  to  Mrs.  Moodie,  it  is  right  to  state  that 
being  still  resident  in  the  far-west  of  Canada,  she 
has  not  been  able  to  superintend  this  work  whilst  pass- 
ing  through  the  press.  From  this  circumstance  some 
verbal  mistakes  and  oversights  may  have  occurred,  but 
the  greatest  care  has  been  taken  to  avoid  them. 

Although  well  known  as  an  authoress  in  Canada, 
and  a  member  of  a  family  which  has  enriched  English 
literature  with  works  of  very  high  popularity,  Mrs. 
Moodie  is  chiefly  remembered  in  this  country  by  a 
volume  of  Poems  published  in  1831,  under  her  maiden 
name  of  Susf :  -a  Strickland.    During  the  rebellion  in 
Canada,  her  loyal   lyrics,  prompted  by  strong  affec- 
tion  for  her  native  country,  were  circulated  and  sung 
throughout  the  colony,  and  produced  a  great  effect  in 
rousing  an  enthusiastic  feeling  in  favour  of  law  and 
order.    Another  of  her  lyrical  compositions,  the  charm- 
ing  Sleigh  Song,  printed  in  the  present  work  voL  L 


J 


"•  2^0. '-  boon  e..e,r~^"^^"^- 

-d  the  touching  truthfulneroTit^    ?.    "'"''  ^'"»' 
«  «ccptio„  there  as  unive^Jl"  /     "'  ''°"  '""^  '' 

feriDg  which  she  gives  ;„  J      ^^  ""='''«■«  ™tl  suf. 
f-'''  attract  geneLlL       T'  T''  '^'^  ^ 
to  point  out  delineations  of  2v  ^         ''  ^'  '^^'"t 
«ore  interesting  or  znore  «1  T  \     ""'^^  P"^'"'<"'. 
in  Her  second  v^lun,?    ^         "  ""*  "'°=°  «<»"«i«ed 

I"™"",  /on«ary  22,  1858. 


I 


y 


H 


ON. 


fJa.  Tlio 
erj  Jino, 
on  for  it 
bJo. 

and  suf. 
wiJI  no 
Mcult 
vation, 
itained 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.   I. 


"♦♦» 


VISIT  TO  OaOSSE  ISLE,  ,  , 

QUEBEC,  

OUR  JOUBNEY  UP  THE  COUNTEr,    .     , 

TOM  Wilson's  emigration,      ,        , 

OUR   FIRST  BETTLEMKNT,   AND  THE   BORROWING 
OLD  SATAN  AND  TOM  WILSOn's   N08E, 
UNCLE  JOE  AND   HI8   FAMILY,  . 
JOHN   MONAGHAN,      .  ,  ,  ,  , 

PH(EBE   H ,   AND  OUH   SECOND   M^ytTING, 

BRIAN,  THE  STILL- HUNTER,         ,  ,  , 

THE  CHARIVARI,        .  ...  , 

THE  LAND-JOBBER,  .... 


SYSTEM, 


1 

12 

30 

80 

64 

81 

92 

112 

128 

140 

180 

181 


n  I 


CONTENTS   OF  VOL.  II. 


-4*»- 


A  JOURNEY   TO   THK   WOODS,    .  .  "T 

•  ♦  •  •  .  O 

THE   WILDEnr^SS,    AND    CUE   INDUN   FEIENDS,  ....         20 

BURNING   THE    FALLOW. 

' 60 

OUR    LOGGING-BEE, 

•        •        •        .        .      68 

A  TRIP   TO   STONY   LAKE.  .  ,. 

' 72 

X>r8APrOINTED    HOPES.      . 

.       8t 

THE   LITTLE   STUMPY   MAN,         •  .  ,  , 

THE   FIRE,        . 

123 

THE   OUTBREAK, 

143 

THE   WHIRLWIND,    . 

.161 

THE   WALK   TO    DUMMER. 

'  169 

A    CHANGE   IN   OUR   PROSPECTS.  .  ^  „.. 

*•••••..     197 

THK  MAGIO  SPELL. 

' 209 


ROUGHING  IT  m  THE  BUSH. 


"♦♦»- 


CHAPTER   I. 

A    VISIT    TO    OROSSE    ISLE. 

Alas !  that  man's  stem  spirit  e'er  should  mar 
A  scene  so  pure— so  exquisite  as  this. 

npHE  dreadful  cholera  was  depopulating  Quebec  and  Mon- 
J-  treal,  when  our  ship  cast  anchor  off  Grosse  Isle,  on  the 
30th  of  August,  1832,  and  we  were  boarded  a  few  minutes 
after  by  the  health-officers.     One  of  these  gentlemen— a  little 
shrivelled-up  Frenchman-from  his  solemn  aspect  and  atten! 
uated  figure,  would  have  made  no  bad  representative  of  him 
who  sat  upon  the  pale  horse.    He  was  the  only  grave  French- 
man  I  had  ever  seen,  and  I  naturally  enough  regarded  him  as 
a  phenomenon.     His  companion-a  fine-looking,  fair-haired 
Scotchman— though  a  little  consequential  in  his  manners 
looked  like  one  who  in  his  own  person  could  combat  and 
vanquish  all  the  evils  which  flesh  is  heir  to.    Such  was  the 
contrast  between  these  doctors,  that  they  would  have  formed 
very  good  emblems-one,  of  vigorous  health;  the  other,  of 
hopeless  decay. 

Our  eaptaiii,  a  iude,  blunt,  north-country  sailor,  possessing 


I'   M  :  ; 


1 


^  Rouamm  it  in  the  bush. 

certainly  not  more  politeness  than  might  be  exDecfP^  •. 
bear,  received  his  sprucely-dressed  visiters  on  thTdel       d' 

down  iZ  Tear'Se^W  "^  ^^^^  ^  ^ 
than,  glaneinghat;  ro^nd tlelT  "'  "^"^^  ^^^^^'' 
following  dialogue  J  ^       '  ^^''^  ««°^"^enced  the 

"  i^rom  what  port,  captain  ?" 

Now  the  captain  had  a  peculiar  language  of  hi.  n^  ^ 

^vith  altogether.  '    ^^  ^^^^rived  to  dispense 

"  Scotland— sailed  from  nnrf  n'  T^vu  i,       ,  « 
Montreal-ceneral  car.T  ^        .  '  ^^"^^  ^^"  ^"^bec, 

passengersJ!rrrirrTT'^"  ^*^^^^g^'  ^«"r  cabin 
Here  L  Ld^^^^^^^^^  T,  ^"^^-'  -«-  -g^t  hands." 

-angers.^ttirS^^^^^  ^^  ^^^ 

.     and  laid  them  on  the  table.  *^^  documents, 

"Had  you  a  good  passage  out?" 

out  of  p^,i,  3,^^^^^  p^^^_  J  .^::i^.r'^''  f-"'" 

__  Any  case  of  sickness  or  death  on  board  «" 

All  sound  as  crickets." 
"Any  births  ?"  lisped  the  little  Frenchman. 

aTatS-  hadonefemaleonbo^r^ir-^ 

"That's  uncommon,"  said  the  Scotch  doctor  with  «„  ,•     <• 
.vely  curiosity.    "  Are  the  children  alive  aid  wd  t  Tsh""  u 
like  much  to  see  thom  "     tt      ^    .  ,  *    ^  ®"^"^d 

head,  for  he  wrverv  lal,  .        T'l'  "P'  ""''  '""'"''^'J  *- 
your  low  cribT  I  h  '  T7   "■'  '"'"'"S'    "Confound 

3f       lowenbs!    I  have  nearly  dashed  out  my  brains." 


.'* 


t'  )!' 


A    VISIT  TO  GROSSE  ISLE. 


3 


pected  in  a 
5  deck,  and, 
follow  him 
'ner  seated, 
nenced  the 


own,  from 
ks.  Small 
0  dispense 

r  Quebec, 
bur  cabin 
It  hands." 
m  to  the 
ocuments. 


ee  weeks 
r,  people 


loment's 
ink  on't, 
3d  three 

1  air  of 


"A  hard  task,  that,"  looked  the  captain  to  me.  He  did 
not  speak,  but  I  knew  by  his  sarcastic  grin  what  was  upper- 
most in  his  thoughts.  "The  young  ones  all  males— fine 
thriving  fellows.  Step  upon  deck,  Sam  Frazer,"  turning  to 
his  steward ;  "  bring  them  down  for  doctors  to  see."  Sam 
vanished,  with  a  knowing  wink  to  his  superior,  and  quickly 
returned,  bearing  in  his  arms  three  fat,  chuckle-headed  bull- 
terriers  ;  the  sagacious  mother  following  close  at  his  heels, 
and  looked  ready  to  give  and  take  offence  on  the  slightest 
provocation. 

"  Here,  gentlemen,  are  the  babies,"  said  Frazer,  depositing 
his  burden  on  the  floor.  "  They  do  credit  to  the  nursing  of 
the  brindled  slut." 

The  old  tar  laughed,  chuckled,  and  rubbed  his  hands  in  an 
ecstacy  of  delight  at  the  indignation  and  disappointment  visi- 
ble in  the  countenance  of  the  Scotch  Esculapius,  who,  angry 
as  he  was,  wisely  held  his  tongue.  Not  so  the  Frenchman  ; 
his  rage  scarcely  knew  bounds,— he  danced  in  a  state  of  most 
ludicrous  excitement,— he  shook  "his  fist  at  our  rough  captain, 
and  screamed  at  the  top  of  his  voice, 

"  Sacr6,  you  bete  !     You  tink  us  dog,  ven  you  try  to  pass 
your  puppies  on  us  for  babies  ?" 

"  Hout,  man,  don't  be  angry,"  said  the  Scotchman,  stifling 
a  laugh  ;  "  you  see  'tis  only  a  joke  !" 

"joke!  me  no  understand  such  joke.  Bete!"  returned 
the  angry  Frenchman,  bestowing  a  savage  kick  on  one  of  the 
unoffending  pups  which  was  frisking  about  his  feet.  The 
pup  yelped ;  the  slut  barked  and  leaped  furiously  at  the 
offender,  and  was  only  kept  from  bitmg  him  by  Sam,  who 
could  scarcely  hold  her  back  for  laughing ;  the  captain  was 
uproarious;  the  offended  Frenchman  alone  maintained  a 
severe  and  dignified  aspect.  The  dogs  were  at  length  dis- 
missed,  mid  peace  restored.    After  some  further  questioninff 


I  '[   '• 


1^  i 


*  itovsitma  IT  m  the  mm. 

W  the  officials,  .  bible  .aa  re,„i.ed  fo.  the  captain  to  take 

as  he  oouM  assume,  to  he  CcZl"'  ^*-*^  r™  ^"  "'■• 
that  it  was  the  volume  requi  ed  ftT'lit^!  ?.  ^'""^ 
polite  to  open  the  book  tl,.       !•'  ^  ''""°''  "''^  '"O 

party  retufnedt  the Ick     i?        ""  '"'^  ^™™'  ""^  «"« 
which  nearly  endedl  a  t  •  *  "'*  '"®'""*y  ^"'^^d, 

quested  the  old  11"^  Tk ''™""''-  '^'^  «»«'■»»  "-e^ 
to  repair  so^f  dX^l  ^  ^ b^T?  °^°'^i"«"^^'^. 
before.  This  the  eaptain  t  d  .  ^o  C"-'' '^  <iay 
think  his  refusal  infpnf-      i       7  -^^^^  seemed  to 

^«  no  very  ^SLr  "^  o^er^^^LlZr  "^-'• 
Jus  boaH  and  put  his  passenge..  on  sh^"       "  "^ '°  "'"''"'' 

"  reatlkt:i;t::;'';-7f  '"e  bluff  old  seaman ; 

and  children  will  t:'J:^^''t^':^\ ''''"  "*  ^-^^ 
night."  ^        ^""^^  ««"1  goes  on  shore  this 

you';ftrau«':."°"''^'''"'°"°^^-'-^-po« . 
fan:oS7sZoirx:t''hTr  ^''-'"^-c. 

youoryourauthorifes"  '  '''"  ""^  "^''^  «°  P^a^e 

^tratdidi*^  ^ir  *°  "^^^  ">™  '^^  «■« 

for  the  llLness  d^layeTly'^ourriT"  "  \'  *"^^"' 
same  evenina  we  saw  „L  ^    commander.    That 

vessel  close  Cde" T  ^Me"  T"™^  ''— d'  ^o-  another 

.     By  daybrealc    ,rw:^wirrr"'^*t*°'«- 

«"rry  and  confusion  on  board  the 


1\  \ 


ptain  to  take 

iing  over  the 
s  stows  my 
table  a  book 
•e  Voltaire's 
?rave  an  air 
for  granted 
or  was  too 
rn,  and  the 
Y  occurred, 
itlemen  re- 
el planking, 
ted  the  day 
seemed  to 
lal  affront. 
to  prepare 

seaman ; 
th  women 
shore  this 

ill  report 

the  wind 
0  please 

left  the 
thankful 
•  That 
another 
bore. 
ird  th9 


•1 


A    VISIT  TO  GROSSE  ISip.  5- 

Anne.  I  watched  boat  after  boat  depart  for  the  island  full 
of  people  and  goods,  and  envied  them  the  glorious  privilege 
of  once  more  standing  firmly  on  the  earth,  after  two  long 
months  of  rocking  and  rolling  at  sea.  As  cabin  passengers, 
we  were  not  included  in  the  general  order  of  purification,  but 
were  only  obliged  to  send  our  servant,  with  the  clothes  and 
beddmg  we  had  used  during  the  voyage,  on  shore,  to  be 
washed. 

The  ship  was  soon  emptied  of  all  her  live  cargo.     My 
husband  went  off  with  the  boats,  to  reconnoitre  the  island, 
and  I  was  left  alone  with  my  baby,  in  the  otherwise  empty 
vessel      Even  Oscar,  the  captain's  Scotch  terrier,  who  had 
formed  a  devoted  attachment  to  me  during  the  voyage,  forgot 
Ins  allegiance,  became  possessed  of  the  land  mania,  and  was 
away  with  the  rest.     With  the  most  intense  desire  to  go  on 
shore,  I  was  doomed  to  look  and  long  and  envy  every  boatful 
of  emigrants  that  glided  past.     Nor  was  tliis  all ;  the  ship 
was  out  of  provisions,  and  I  was  condemned  to  undergo  a 
ng.d  fast  until  the  return  of  the  boat,  when  the  captain  had 
promised  a  supply  of  fresh  butter  and  bread.    The  vessel  had 
been  nme  weeks  at  sea ;  the  poor  steerage  passengers  for  the 
two  last  weeks  had  been  out  of  food,  and  the  captain  had 
been  obliged  to  feed  them  from  the  ship's  stores.    The  prom- 
ised bread  was  to  be  obtained  from  a  small  steamboat,  which 
plied  daily  between  Quebec  and  the  island,  transporting  con- 
valescent  emigrants  and  their  goods  in  her  upward  trip,  and 
provisions  for  the  sick  on  her  return.     How  I  reckoned  on 
once  more  tastmg  bread  and  butter !     The  very  thought  of 
the  treat  in  store  served  to  sharpen  my  appetite,  and  render 
the  long  flist  more  irksome. 

^  As  the  sun  rose  above  the  horizon,  all  these  matter-of-fact 
circumstances  were  gradually  forgotten,  and  merged  in  the 
snrpassmg  grandeur  of  the  scene  that  rose  majesticaUy  before 


//',: 


e 


nouQEma  IT  m  the  buse. 


!      i 


ws^l  t  ;t^t  :;ti-:{; "'-"  r^  '-^''  "^ 

girdled  them  round  thevl       7        """'  '^'■'>^' '«"  'h"' 
Titans  of  the  0^1  in  !n    K  """  ''^^  "^'"^  8'''"'— 

tacle  floated  dimly  1  rn^^^iT  "  "^  """"•  ^'"'  ^P"^- 
t--blinded  Jh  thn/et^rb^ear;  Tt  '"t'  ^^'* 
-ght  and  to  the  left,!  looked  up  and  do™ 'the  J  ™  '°  "" 
never  had  I  beheld  so  rmon      .  •.  •  glorious  river : 

"ight.  Whole  !    trKiledlt  ''T  T"  ""« 
u.  producing  that  enchanting  scene  ''  ''"""'^^ 

crowned  with  the  telegraplLthe  mU',!     ""™  ^*^™'^' 

tent,  and  sheds  for  the  eholrapati2.  I  T'  "^"""'^  "^ 
dotted  over  with  motley  IrurTM  T  ''' r"*^'' *°^^^ 
turesque  effect  of  the  landCr^tehf;  V°  ^  '"^ 
nver,  covered  with  boats  dartL;  to  aTd  t  '  '"'"'"« 
^engers  from  twenty-five  vesse  s  of  J  '  "'""^"^  ^^^ 

Which  rode  at  anchor^  with^X  flXTrthT'  'T^^' 
gave  an  mr  of  life  and  interest  to  the  wW?   T  ' 

south  side  of  the  St.  Lawrence  I  wl  !„.  ,  "'"^  *°  ""> 

low  fertile  shores   whitH!  .         ''''*'™'''' ^*  i'« 

Slender  spires  aS  b^gh^r^frlriii^'T^'  *^^ 
caught  the  first  rays  of  the  sun  a!T  l"""  '''  ""^^ 
reach,  a  Ime  of  whit«  \.!Z  ""  "'  ""^  "^c  could 

their  w:u::tidX*r~i*;^  *; »-''. 

terminable  foresf      Tf  «.o  ^  ^  ^^  ^^^  <^ense,  m- 

/^^^^  lorest.     It  was  a  scene  unlike  anv  T  i,  /i 
beheld,  and  to  which  Brifain  n^«f  •  ^      ^^^  ^^^r 


ny;  and  a 

forms  the 
ro]y  from 
?ray,  bald 
;  belt  that 
giants — . 
eauty — a 
The  spee- 
ded with 
d  to  tlie 
us  river ; 
into  one 
features 

5  at  the 
tremity, 
3ied  by 
1  shores 
the  pic- 
itterinff 
"g  pas- 
)nnage, 
t-head, 

to  the 
ith  its 
whose 
s  they 
could 
)ank ; 
ie,  in- 

ever 
inzie, 
ivheu 


A    VISIT  TO  GROSSE  ISLK  f 

he  rose  in  the  morning,  and  saw  the  parish  of  St.  Thomas  for 
the  first  time,  exclaimed—"  Wee),  it  beats  a' !  Can  thae 
white  drnits  be  a'  houses?  They  look  like  claes  hung  out  to 
drie  !^'  There  was  some  truth  in  this  odd  comparison,  and  for 
some  minutes,  I  could  scarcely  convince  myself  that  the  white 
patches  sciittered  so  thickly  over  the  opposite  shore  could  be 
the  dwellings  of  a  busy,  lively  population. 

"  What  sublime  views  of  the  north  side  of  the  river  those 
habitans  of  St.  Thomas  must  enjoy,"  thought  I.  Perhaps 
fiimihanty  with  the  scene  has  rendered  them  indifferent  to  its 
astonishing  beauty. 

Eastward,  the  view  down  the  St.  Lawrence  towards  the 

Gulf,  is  the  finest  of  all,  scarcely  surpassed  by  any  thing  in  the 

world.     Your  eye  follows  the  long  range  of  lofty  mountains 

until  their  blue  summits  are  blended  and  lost  in  the  blue  of 

the  sky.     Some  of  these,  partially  cleared  round  the  base,  are 

spruikled  over  with  neat  cottages  ;  and  the  green  slopes  that 

spread  around  them  are  covered  with  flocks  and  herds.     The 

surface  of  the  splendid  river  is  diversified  with  islands  of 

every  size  and  shape,  some  in  wood,  others  partially  cleared, 

and  adorned  with  orchards  and  white  farm-houses.     As  the' 

early  sun  streamed  upon  the  most  prominent  of  these,  leaving 

the  others  in  deep  shade,  the  effect  was  strangely  novel  and 

imposing. 

*  *  *  *  *  *  ♦ 

My  day-dreams  were  dispelled  by  the  retuni  of  the  boat 
which  brought  my  husband  and  the  captain  from  the  island.  ' 

"  No  bread,"  said  the  latter,  shaking  his  head ;  «  you  must 
be  content  to  starve  a  little  longer.  Provision-ship  not  in  till 
four  o'clock."  My  husband  smiled  at  the  look  of  blank  dis- 
appointment  with  which  I  received  these  unwelcome  tidings. 
"Never  mind,  I  have  news  which  will  comfort  you.  The 
officer  who  commands  the  station  sent  a  note  to  me  by  an 


til 


,11 


I.'         I 


KouQuma  IT  IN  Tim  bush. 


Wand.    Captain  IZ  2Z.  t"^  ''""'^  "'  "°"'''  »  *"« 

^oo£:^;eX:Xa^tirc^'-^^-- 

iiie  rough  saUor-captain  screwed  his  mnnfl, 
and  gave  me  on*.  «r  vl;  •    ,  *^"^"  '^^  ^^e  s  de. 

well  at  a  distance  whil  are  Z^'  ^°°^'  """y  "^ngs  Joolc 
u  /.  *>'^"^n  are  bad  enough  when  nrsir  » 

I  forget  tl:e  extraorfi„^™  1'    ;:X    ■"J'^--    ^ever  sl^all 

moment  we  passed  tlie  W^TlVM^'V""  '■«■■'  *» 
screen  in  front  of  the  river    T!      .   7^''  ^"^  ^'^'^^^  «■ 
emigrants  had  been  Z^  l^'t   """^  ''™<''^-i  W* 
day;  and  all  this  motley  crew^*    ^"^'"''  "'"'  ^°™^' 
who  were  not  confined  b/siX^XlTr'/™.^  "^''"»> 
•^sembled  cattle.pens)-:werr.lT     I     ^^'  '■"^'^  ^reMy 
or  spreading  them^nt^onTrro^  tnf  .  V"'''?  ''°*^^' 
men  and  boys  were  « the  wat^  wh^f  i™  '^^    ^^ 

scanty  garments  tucked  ^.h^^lC^^V  ""'"'  ^^  *'=!'• 
their  bedding  in  tnbror  to  hoLrth^^^\"«^l  ''""'""S 
tiring  tide  had  left  Lit  fdl  of^^f  0^  '  "T*  *^  ^- 
possess  washing-tubs  mil,  n,  •  ^^^  ''''°  ^id  not 

«>--  to  a  hoie'iTa;^,:^:;™  ""*'' "  •""■"  »»*  °b*-» 

mg  and  scolding  in  T^ZZ  Z:'  ^^f  '^'  ^""''"'- 

Babel  was  among  them     An  t.ii  ,  ^*'  '^'^"^'on  of 

"touting  a.,d  vdCrL    \.       "  "''  ""  h^'^rers-each 

S     "y'^'^m  his  or  her  uncouth  dialect,  and  al.-a<^ 


'1« 


him.  Ho 
ice  on  tlie 
ne;  but  i 
ou  like  to 


A    VISIT  TO  GROSSE  ISLE. 


^ 


island.    It 

one  side, 
d  nothing 
boat, 
ings  look 

ks,  which 
d  so  hofc 
How  the 
ver  shall 
»"ght  the 
brmed  a 
fed  Irish 
former 
children, 
greatly 
clothes, 
\    The 
th  their 
mpling 
the  re. 
tid  not 
obtain 
3ream- 
on  of 
—each 
alJ  ao. 


I 


cotnpanying  their  vociferations  with  violent  and  extraordinary 
gestures,  quite  Incomprehensible  to  the  uninitiated.  We  were 
literally  stunned  by  the  strife  of  tongues.  I  shrank,  with  feel- 
ings  almost  akin  to  fear,  from  the  hard-featured,  sun-burnt 
harpies,  as  they  elbowed  rudely  past  me. 

I  have  heard  and  read  much  of  savages,  and  have  since 
seen,  during  my  long  residence  in  the  bush,  somewhat  of  un 
civilized  life ;  but  the  Indian  is  one  of  Nature's  gentlemen- 
he  never  says  or  does  a  rude  or  vulgar  thing.     The  vicious, 
uneducated  barbarians  who  form  the  surplus  of  over-populous 
European  countries,  are  far  behind  the  wild  man  in  delicacy 
of  feeling  or  natural  courtesy.     The  people  who  covered  the 
island  appeared  perfectly  destitute  of  shame,  or  even  of  a 
sense  of  common  decency.     Many  were  almost  naked,  still 
more  but  partially  clothed.     We  turned  in  disgust  from  the 
revolting  scene,  but  were  unable  to  leave  the  spot  until  the 
captain  had  satisfied  a  noi  ^v  group  of  his  own  people,  who 
were  demanding  a  supply  of  stores. 

And  here  I  must  observe  that  our  passengers,  who  were 
chiefly  honest  Scotch  labourers  and  mechanics  from  the  vicin- 
ity  of  Edinburgh,  and  who  while  on  board  ship  had  conducted 
themselves  with  the  greatest  propriety,  and  appeared  the  most 
qmet,  orderly  set  of  people  in  the  world,  no  sooner  set  foot 
upon  the  island  than  they  became  infected  by  the  same  spirit 
of  insubordination  and  misrule,  and  were  just  as  insolent  and 
noisy  as  the  rest.     While  our  captam  was  vainly  endeavour- 
ing to  satisfy  the  unreasonable  demands  of  his  rebellious  peo- 
ple, Moodie  had  discovered  a  woodland  path  that  led  to  the 
back  of  the  island.     Sheltered  by  some  hazel-bushes  from  the 
intense  heat  of  the  sun,  we  sat  down  by  the  cool,  gushing 
river,  out  of  sight,  but,  alas  !  not  out  of  hearing  of  the  noisy*' 
riotous  crowd.     The  rocky  banks  of  the  island  were  adorned 
with  beautiful  evergreens,  which  sprang  up  spontaneously  in 


I 


10 


Jiovoffaa  n  m  tbe  amit. 


«wry  nook  and  crevice      T 
V""e^y  of-Icgant  unl<„own,  ■""•""'•■■o'^o,  a,,,;  a  great 

-  ":c.r;:r;  r  tiitr  "f--'  --^-^  «■»'« 

"'"thcd  from  ,h„  ,  ""  <"™.  overhung  with  lofty  trees, 

h-^  in  graceful  festoons  ;„^°  r™"  "'"■  «''"  vines,  that 
"■""Wdge.     The  dark  shadow,  ofT"'  ^'''""''"  '°  ""> 
"pon  the  water,  as  they  towered  to  ^1    ^."'™"""'"''  "-^wn 
«»d  feet  above  us,  gave  to  the  !   T      "^^^  °''  ^°'"«  ">ou. 
h--    The  su„bea„;sf  7^^ ZZ  t  "^  "'"  °"  ^•'- 
fol'ago,  fell  in  stars  of  gold  or         f       "  "i'™'''  'l"'v<'ring 
"e-,  upon  the  deep  black  1     '"^  'T  "'  ''^"""S  ''"^i't 
and  beautiful  effects.  '  fodneing  the  most  novel 

Wo  were  now  ioined  i,„  ,i, 
brought  us  his  capful  otrZJ      '"'^""'^'  ""'"'  ^--^  ki"dly 
Of  *e  island;  a'oyfrf  Xett:"' ''""'■"•''^' ''''^ 
Captain  --_,  wh^  Ld  fZd  .L'  he""hT>  '^  "  ""'^  '■"- 
h.s  supposed  knowledge  of  us  and  n!, ,  ,        '™  '"'^"'''™  ■» 
being  allowed  by  the'hcalttXer  ol''?'"'°«'"'  """^  "°' 
beyond  the  bounds  appointed  f^r  he  ZT""  ""^  ^">'P™' 
tnio.    I  was  deeply  disaonnintT  I     P<"-fo™ance  of  quara*. 
toM  ,ne  that  I  haVsen  ~  ^Il^f  \"^>'»<^  '^hingiy 
the  good-natured  soldier,  remarked    ":"/.  '"'  '"™'"8  '« 

-y  t.k  to  keep  such  wild  savSntl?  "°"'^  "^  "» 

lou  may  well  say  that  sir    hS 
exceed  those  of  the  day     Yo,,  '     , ,  l""  '"-**  ""^les  far 
nate  devils;  singing,  drinkilrdlntt    f  *'''  -■  "'   "— 
antics  that  would  surprise  the  leatw       "-'-  "■«  «"tting 


-!(j! 


>r  favourite 
'»c  iiJIagi-ee, 
^'et,  witli  its 
i^nnm-vit®, 
md  a  great 

3ding  fi-om 
lofty  trees, 
vines,  that 
les  to  the 
IS,  thrown 
>Jne  thou. 
1*  an  ebon 
quivering 
ig  bright- 
ost  novel 

Y  kindJy 
B  growth 
5te  from 
taken  in 

for  not 
tnigrant 
quaran- 
?hingjy 
ning  to 

be  no 

les  far 

incar- 

utting 

'  have 

here. 


A    VISIT  TO  0Ii0S"^7  ISLE. 


11 


and  they  think  i\^^  can  speak  a>..  act  as  they  please-  and 
*hey  are  such  thieves  that  they  rob  one  another  of  the'little 
they  possess.  Tlie  healfhv  actually  run  the  risk  of  taking  the 
cholera  by  robbing  the  sick.  If  you  have  not  hired  one  or 
two  stout,  honest  fellows  from  among  your  fellow-pa. sengcrs 
to  guard  your  clothes  while  they  are  drying,  you  will  never 
see  half  of  them  again.  They  are  a^ad  set,  sir,  a  sad  set. 
We  could,  perhaps,  manage  the  men;  but  the  women,  sir'— 
the  women  !     Oh,  sir !" 

Anxious  as  we  were  to  return  to  the  ship,  we  were  obliged 
to  remam  until  sundown  in  our   retired  nook.      We  were 
hungry,  tired,  and  out  of  spirits  ;  the  mosquitoes  swarmed  in 
myriads  around  us,  tormenting  the  poor  baby,  who,  not  at 
all  pleased  with  her  first  visit  to  the  new  world,  filled  the  air 
>vith  cries ;  when  the  captain  came  to  tell    is,  that  the  boat 
was   ready.     It  was  a  welcome  sound.      Forcing  our  way 
once  more  through  the  still  squabbling  crowd,  we  gained  the 
land.ng-place.     Here  we  encountered  a  boat,    ust  landing  a 
fresh  cargo  of  lively  savages  from  the  Emeraid  Isle.     One 
fellow,  of  gigantic  proportions,  whose  long,  tatter,  d  great-coat 
just  reached  below  the  middle  of  his  bare  red  leers,  and,  like 
charity,  hid  the  defects  of  his  other  garments,    >r  perhaps 
concealed  his  want  of  them,  leaped  upon  the  rock,   and  flour- 
ishmg  aloft  his  shllelagh,  bounded  and  capered  1  ke  a  wild 
goat  from  his  native  mountains.     "Whurrahlmy    .oys'"he 
cried,  "Sure  we'll  all  be  jontlemen!" 

"Pull  away,  my  lads!"  exclaimed  our  captain,  nd  in  a 
few  moments  we  were  again  on  board.  Thus  ended  ny  fii-st 
day  s  experience  of  the  land  of  all  our  hopes. 


l\ 


I  'i 


ti 


19 


HOUGEINQ  IT  m  rUM 


£mir. 


CHAPTER  11^ 
t 

QUEBEC. 

into  mid-channel,  I  cast  a  )o=t  i        ■  "'"'  ^^^^o'  struck 

3hore«  we  were  i;arg  SX^f  '""'  "'  '''  '>-'""'"l 
«nc^  and  basking  in  L  ^^^'^^^^  ^^^'"^  of  the  S,  W 
■sland  and  its  sister  group  LZy,  """^'"^  '™'  *« 

emerged  from  the  watL^f  haof  t ",  """"  ^'^  J^' 
the  eloudless  heavens  of  that  ntcnli,  "^  '""'  ™™'  ""d 

to  the  Canadian  skies  .TJZl':^:'  *-' -hich  gives 
more  northern  latitudes,     "nl  2  ""^  """"'°™  » 

sun  shone  out  with  uncommon  'J"'/""  """^  ^''^«''.  *« 
changing  woods  with  a  n~  wt^!.  "'  '*''""«  "P  ">« 
thousand  brilliant  and  vivid  dye7  "^""'"^"'""Po-d  of  a 
flashmg  and  sparkling  onward  L  .7.  ^^^"^  "™''  ""^d 
a>at  tipped  its  short  rolling  riswl'  ''^  "  ^"""S  freeze, 
^  Never  shall  I  forgot  thl  Z  T    '  T'  "^^""^^  '•o"™ 
Quebec.    I  love  to  recall  ate  theT'  T  <^^""«  '^'^  '« 
«very  object  that  awoke  Ltvbtt  1"^''  "'  ^  """^  ^-ear., 
ment  and  delight    What  wo«  co^-"'""'  "'  -'^-h-' 
and  grandeur,  and  power   .t  "ombmations  of  beauty 

river!  ^'""''  •"  '^'^  winding  of  that  nobk 

^very  perception  of  mv  mm^  i, 
one  sense  of  seeing,  when  unl         T"  ^^""'^'''^  »to  the 


QUEBEC. 


13 


%  and  we 
sel  struck 
beautiful 
St.  Law- 
sun,  the 
den  just 
rm,  and 
-h  gives 
lown  in 
3tic,  the 
wp  the 
edof  a 
roiled 
breeze, 
foam. 
Isle  to 
years, 
onish- 
Jautj, 
noble 

)  the 
cast 
pro- 


duce such  another  1.  Edmburgh  had  been  the  heau  ideal  to 
me  of  all  that  was  beautiful  in  Nature— a  vision  of  the 
northern  Highlands  had  haunted  my  dreams  across  the  At- 
lantic ;  but  all  these  past  recollections  faded  before  the  x>reBent 
of  Quebec.  Nature  has  lavished  all  her  grandest  elements  to 
form  this  astonishing  panorama.  There  frovvTis  the  cloud- 
capped  mountain,  and  below,  the  cataract  foams  and  thunders  • 
wood,  and  rock,  and  river  combine  to  lend  their  aid  in  making 
the  picture  perfect,  and  worthy  of  its  Divine  Originator. 

The  precipitous  bank  upon  which  the  city  lies  piled  re- 
flected m  the  still,  deep  waters  at  its  base,  greatly  enhances 
the  romantic  beauty  of  the  situation.  The  mellow  and  serene 
glow  of  the  autumnal  day  harmonized  so  perfectly  with  the 
solemn  grandeur  of  the  scene  around  me,  and  sank  so  sUentlv 
and  deeply  into  my  soul,  that  my  spirit  fell  prostrate  before 
It,  and  1  melted  involuntarily  into  tears. 

ITie  pleasure  we  experienced  upon  our  first  glance  at 
Quebec  was  greatly  damped  by  the  sad  conviction  that  the 
cholera  raged  within  her  walls,  while  the  almost  ceaseless' 
tolling  of  bells  proclaimed  a  mournful  tale  of  woe  and  death 
Scarcely  a  person  visited  the  vessel  who  was  not  in  black  or 
who  spoke  not  in  tones  of  subdued  gi-ief     They  advised  us 
not  to  go  on  shore  if  we  valued  our  lives,  as  strangers  most 
commonly  fell  the  first  victims  to  the  fatal  malady      This 
was  to  me  a  severe  disappointment,  who  felt  an  intense  de- 
sire  to  chmb  to  the  crown  of  the  rock,  and  survey  the  noble 
landscape  at  my  feet.     I  yielded  at  last  to  the  wishes  of  my 
husband,  who  did  not  himself  resist  the  temptation  in  his  own 
person,  and  endeavoured  to  content  myself  with  the  means 
of  enjoyment  placed  within  my  reach.     My  eyes  were  never 
tired  of  wandering  over  the  scene  before  me 

It  is  curious  to  observe  how  differently  the  objects  which 
call  forth  nitense  admiration  in  some  minds  will  affect  others. 


'  m 


■  If . 


14 


ROTTGHINa  IT  m  THE  BUSH. 


"ft  may  be  a-  vera  C  tut  ft,  T'    7'^  *'«^^»'J- 
thinken  than  hanks  o' white  Wh  ""'''""'  *°  "y 

"  WeeV  cried  anoThe     ^le  ^a'f  71  °Z  T  ''"*^^-" 
oraw  land,  nae  doubt;  but  no' Tust  so ^r  ^^^™"''' '  '"^  * 

"Hout,  ma„r  hauld  J™,!  J"'* ''o '"^'''' ««  a«W  Scotland." 

here  •' said  a  third    "ndve.™":  ""  ""'"  ''  '^  '^"''^ 
tW  wad  think  auc'ht  o^  aThar-   '  """^  '™^  '^^^o- 

enterraL7b;!:iz7::r  T''  ^"'^^^"^"'  -f--- 

Of  the  Cnadfan  sh^t  Td  Sd  T"^'"''  ™^  ^■•^'" 
great  consequence  The  rl  T^  .  ""  '°*°  P'''-^""^  of 
>easMeserv.^g  ard  thf  L7  rite  t  ''"T'''''''  ''" 
exhibited  most  disgusting  tra  ts  "f  IV  ""  ""''  '""™'^' 
and  presumption  seLed'to  "  1,1  .11^^?-  '''"''^>' 
talked  loudly  of  the  rank  and  ^a  h  o^Tb  ''""•  ""'"^ 
home,  and  lamented  the  ereat  !»!  /  7  oonnecdon,  at 
order  to  join  brothers  If  "''  ^'^  "''^'l  "ade  in 

in  th,-s  beU  ^tintu  :r  gI:'!'^*'^"^ -«^^ 

able  to  wash  a  floor  decentwTn'  j    f  '  "^^°  '^•'''«  ^"ee"? 
unless  tempted    o  ehaZ  th  ''"'"^ ''*  """'^"P*^ 

twelve  dollL  alntrTlT/'  '""  '^  *^  ""^"^^  "'^ 
was  a  useless  and  ung  tiou^ta^l'Tr  f  ""'"*«=  "'^'» 
severa,  without  success  I  left  ^f'  .•  ^"  *"*""«  '"'"J  "'t  with 
to  restore  them  to  S  Jo^rllTT  f' T  r^^'-^-^^ 
stranees  of  the  captain,  and  the  d"ad  of  tie  bt  "'  """"- 
rushed  on  shore  to  inspect  the  land  of  Cot     "'i"^^  ^" 

the  gentlemen  were  Canadians     Cr.  ^    '"'*^"''  ^^^^^ 


QUEBEC. 


15 


order,  and  the  imp(.ssibility  of  strangers  escaping  from  its 
fearful  ravages.  This  was  not  very  consoling,  and  served  to 
depress  the  cheerful  tone  of  mind  which,  after  all,  is  one  of 
the  best  antidotes  against  this  awful  scourge.  The  cabin 
seemed  to  lighten,  and  the  air  to  circulate  more  freely,  after 
the  departure  of  these  professional  ravens.  The  captain,  as 
if  by  instinct,  took  an  additional  glass  of  grog,  to  shake  off  the 
sepulchral  gloom  their  presence  had  inspired. 

The  visit  of  the  doctors  was  followed  by  that  of  two  of  the 
officials  of  the  Customs  ;-vulgar,  illiterate  men,  who,  seating 
themselves  at  the  cabin  table,  with  a  familiar  nod  to  the 
captain,  and  a  blank  stare  at  us,  commenced  the  following 
dialogue : — 

Custom-house  officer  {after  making   inquiries   as   to    the 
general  cargo  of  the  vessel)  :—«  Any  good  brandy  on  board 
captain  ?"  ' 

Captain  {grufly)  :  «  Yes." 

Officer  :  "  Best  remedy  for  the  cholera  known.     The  only 
one  the  doctors  can  depend  upon." 

Captain  {taking  the  hint) :  "  Gentlemen,  I'll  send  you  up  a 
dozen  bottles  this  afternoon." 

Officer  :  "  Oh,  thank  you.     We  are  sure  to  get  it  genwne 
from  you.     Any  Edinburgh  ale  in  your  freight  ?" 
^    Captain  {with  a  slight  shrug) :  "A  few  hundreds  in  cases. 
1 11  send  you  a  dozen  with  the  brandy."  ? 

Both:  "Capital!" 

First  officer :  «  Any  short,  large-bowled,  Scotch  pipes,  with 
metallic  lids ?"  ^^    ' 

Captain  {quite  impatiently)-.    "Yes,  yes;    I'll   send   you 
some  to  smoke,  with  the  brandy .— What  else  1" 
Officer :  "  We  will  now  proceed  to  business." 
My  readers  would  have  laughed,  as  I  did,  could  they  have 
seen  how  doggedly  the  old  man  shook  his  fist  after  thes« 


VffCM', 


I 


in 


16 


nouGuma  it  in  the  bush. 


faced  manner,  and  we  dare  nnfT'  •  .      ^  ''''''  "'  '"  ""^  '""■"^ 
t;.o  trouble  they  can  ^u'"^    to    ^7^^'-'  ^^  f-  of 

I'd  give  them  Itaste'of  I  ndyll  ak  T:.^'^"'  "'  "^ 
relish."  •'^  ""''  "'<=  'hat  they  would  not 

declared  to  be  a  filfhv  ^T  .J    T        ""'  '"'^'  '^''i*  ^cy 

f-  the  4:  s-d^rfdi  r:  hot'  irr  ':■  •'^"- 

night  closed  in  accomnn^.v^  k       , T  '"'''  """^  ^"^rf^^^ 

We  seemed  to  hTveTadTf    \f   T^"''  *"•*  '^""'"S  ^™- 
the  frigid  .one  l^'ho       w    '"  ''"?  '■™'"  ^^^  «°™d  to 

was  aLost  i"     Srand      '  "^  '^'  ^"""^^  <"°*'»g 

P«d  formed  buttrn^n    Zll"^::! ^^.  T""'^ 
of  the  weafhpr      A  a  .1.  ^  *"®  mclemencv 

effect  SeTd  bfl^SlTTheT^  ""V''''  ^"^•■'- 
water,  and  wearv  wit),  „  .  '°™  ^o&<xm  in  the 

-t.     I  had  inst's^t^l  "dl™  ty™b at  ^t  ^  ^''^  '" 
the  vessel  struck    with  ,      jj    ''^      ^       '""'  ''«''*'  ""hen 

through  her  Xl'e  fr  L  if'"  ?,*  *^'  ""'  "  ^''iver 
-I  danger  that  hung  Ze;  us  Sd  "'  "''"  ""'  *« 
and  thence  ascended  to  the  deck  ^     ^  ™^  '°  ^^  '*"' 

B.fore~:^-X~j^«^ 

position,  and  ran  foul  of  us  in  th    daf  ^  f  "^'"^^ 
™all  brig,  and  her  unlucky  relhbo„;     ^  ^"^  ™'  " 

vessel,  with  three  hundred  Irfaf„  '"^'  *'»-''«-°>««ted 

her  bowsprit  was  dir^^y  att  thlT'^  T  "T''  ""''  "^ 
^he  anchored,  and  unabl^rL  hers  J^  f  %^™^' ''"^ 
embrace,  there  was  no  small  daler  of  f,  f  "^""^y 

down  in  the  miequal  struggle      ^  "  ^  ^"^  g<""S 


luttered  to 
1  this  bare- 
for  fear  of 
lins  at  sea, 
would  not 

returned, 
^hich  they 
ial  better 
d  starless 
;luig  ram. 
torrid  to 
'  clothing 
s^ell-lined 
slemency 
singular 
1  in  the 
I  excite- 
etire  to 
h,  when 

shiver 

of  the 
>  cabin, 

'iption. 
ed  her 
was  a 
tiasted 
md  as 
e,  and 
eadly 
gomg 


QUEBEC. 


It 


Unable  to  comprehend  what  was  going  on,  I  raised  my 
head  above  the  companion  ladder,  just  at  the  critical  moment 
when  the  vessels  were  grappled  together.  The  shrieks  of  the 
women,  the  shouts  and  oaths  of  the  men,  and  the  barking  of 
the  dogs  in  either  ship,  aided  the  dense  darkness  of  the  night 
in  producing  a  most  awful  and  stunning  effect.  The  captain 
was  raging  like  a  chafed  bull,  in  the  grasp  of  several  frantic 
women,  who  were  clinging,  shrieking,  to  his  knees. 

With  great  difficulty  I  persuaded  the  women  to  accompany 
me  below.  The  mate  hurried  off  with  the  cabin  light  upon 
the  deck,  and  we  were  lefl  in  total  darkness  to  await  the 
result. 

When  tranquillity  was  restored,  fatigued  both  in  mind  and 
body,  I  sunk  into  a  profound  sleep,  and  did  not  awake  until 
the  sun  had  risen  high  above  the  wave-encircled  fortress  of 
Quebec.  The  stormy  clouds  had  all  dispersed  dui-ing  the 
night;  the  air  was  clear  and  balmy;  the  giant  hills "Vere 
robed  in  a  blue,  soft  mist,  which  rolled  around  them  in  fleecy 
volumes.  As  the  beams  of  the  sun  penetrated  their  shadowy 
folds,  they  gradually  drew  up  like  a  curtain,  and  dissolved 
like  wreaths  of  smoke  into  the  clear  air. 

During  the  day,  many  of  our  passengers  took  their  de- 
parture;  tired  of  the  close  confinement  of  the  ship,  and  the 
long  voyage,  they  were  too  impatient  to  remain  on  board 
until  we  reached  Montreal.  The  mechanics  obtained  instant 
employment,  and  the  girls  who  were  old  enough  to  work 
procured  situations  as  servants  in  the  city.  Before  ni^ht  our 
numbers  were  greatly  reduced.  The  old  dragoon  and  his 
family,  two  Scotch  fiddlers  of  the  name  of  Duncan,  a  High- 
lander  called  Tarn  Grant,  and  his  wife  and  little  son,  and  our 
own  party,  were  all  that  remained  of  the  seventy-two  passen- 
gers that  left  the  Pert  of  Leith  in  the  brig  Anne. 

In  spite  of  the  earnest  entreaties  of  his  young  wife,  the  said 


i^h 


iir 


!(  !i(|i 


"  soirem^a  it  is  the  bitsii 

-::i.t::;  t:;:;  r:j—  ^^"-  ■•-  ^^  .o., 

place.  "  Ah,  Tam  f  T^„  ,  "  ;''"  f  °  ^''^  ""  *^  """^  of  the 
the  weeping  M^,g,-,  !mv  h  1  t"*'  ^'""<^™'"  <=ried 
*i'me  an^tho  bfirnie -^7' *'"  •'™''  '^ /«  dinna  bide 
Regardiess  of  tears  and  entZ-""".  "'  "'"''  "'  ^"^''  Craig. 

Fortunately  for  me  theTJ't         ^  """""""*  *"»'  ^i*  him 
«-  to  proeeed  4  "he^  rCr ?  .^^^"  '»  '^^  ---  '-'^ 
,     Steamer  ^„V,V.  ^„«.i,„  .  l"     T        V"  *"*  '"'  *"  "°'>1'= 
"•issing.     Duri„g  the  ;;;„  of  tlr;  ',      ™'^"'^  ^'""'  *- 
time  would  hav^  appeared  bl      ,t     "■"'  *'''"  '^  """'h^^ 
invested  with  doubt'lnd  tr':   '  Tl  ""''""'  ™^  "- 
«fe  knew  no  bounds     1,1^1    ^''\<''^''-«^  of  the  poor 
then,  sitting  upon  the  floor  of  the  d!!  ^    'T''  *'  '  ^''"'  ''^■• 
tween  her  knees,  rocking  heLt ,        ',"■  '"""^  '"'"'d  >«>• 

the  utter  abando;ment^tf;"/"l^™^,  T,"'"^  ■■" 
dead !     My  dear,  dear  Tam  i     Tt,  *"''  ■   ^^  '« 

upon  him ;  and  I  and  the  nnir  1,  P''""''=n<=«  has  seiEed 
strange  land."  All  attll  '  "  "'  '"*  "'""^  '»  *« 
she  obstinately  ref Led  to  IH  T""'"*"  "'^'^  "-'-! 
comforted.    All  thr  ugh  thf  L:  f?'""'""'  "  ««  "^ 

-r-.---o.%te:tL!^;trs:- 

tH '!;■  g^i^'lT^^^^^^^  City,  giiding 

the  river  mirrored  back  thrg^^eoT:'::?  ™''^  "»""" 
lows  of  liquid  eold  ■   th»    ^  ^  °"^  ^''y-  and  moved  in  bil- 

Wen,yfiL,aS";artL^::j;-XVf  "^  "^  -'* 
cle^as    ga.ed  my  last  upon  that  belttl     ene"""  ^""■ 

--:"dTrm7:;rtt:rh '-  "^  -  -- 


aUEBBO. 


19 


long  enough  to  enable  me  to  examine  „;ti.  a       ■ 

rocky  heights  of  Abraham,  the  seen"  Jf!''  '"'"•'''•  ""^ 

victory  and  death  •  and  „i,      !u  ^  ™'"'"-tol  Wolfe's 

thomLarosetLrnntrutvVT''''^""  ''""''  "''"  '"^*'- 
upon  the  strange,  JZ\^Z^'^-yr'''-f-"^ 

rapidly  between  its  rugged  banks   ron   ,  ,"""'  ""^^ 

beneath  the  overshado^  ng  c'a!^  '  it^ ,["  "*^  "'-""- 
channel  flashed  alonir  in  .U,  ,  ""l' J^'^"  "><>  ™ves  in  mid- 

by  the  surroun    ™Tk  ^s"""  ;f;^"f -^-^  ---'»- 
huge  steamer  glided  TTTu    r     ^"  '"'"'"°"'  f"'^''  «>e 

red^arth.stars1;:;^rS:"fnt':r^  "'"^"^  ^^^^^^  "^ 
-  ^ome  «ery  demon  of  the'  Z^::;^^^ 

night,  broken  alone  bvifahn  ,  "^"'P  '""""^^  "^  'he 

with  sad  foreboding;!!,  ^s-too^n  "f"^^'  '"^"  "^  -"'' 

From  these  sad  r  verfe    ,  1  P™P''f  "Z'*^  ''"'"^• 
of  the    bagpipe.    Ct    1,1''"''^''^  *"''°"^^«'>«'<^^ 
Scotchman  upon  deck  and.  """"^    ''™"g'"   <*™ry 

decks  of  the' the  ts's r  Detr'  "?'  '"  '"""°''  ""•  *« 
our  fiddlers  took  up  th!  t  I><^'^™'"ed  not  to  be  outdone, 
between  the  r  val  ^slS  t'^TV  "™'^  ^™'-'  »-^d 
greater  part  of  thenShtTlw  T"""'*  ''"""S  ">o 
»  no  way  congenial  fmy  ft  1  in^t™  n1°°'^^  ^'=™'-^  «- 
<»  increase  our  melancholy         ^  *"=«  '^^'^  «o  much 

-d;  and  I  leftre  Tcet;  1?"'^?  "''™  ">«  >■-' - 

mind  painfully  agit     d  w  ^n^'^^^'r      !,°'  • ""'  ""'  '"^ 
regrets.  ''^  sonowful  recollections  and  vam 


20 


MOUOHINQ  IT  m  THE  BUSJT. 


\P:^ 


I    "i 


I 


CHAPTER  III 

OUR    JOUBNEr    UP    THE    nnrrxT 

^r    laiu    COUNTRY, 

fW  Montreal  I  can  say  but  little     Tt      u  , 
^  heigh,,  and  the  ftar  o/hZiofv'-  iT      "^"'''*  ^"^  "'  "» 
"-e  approached  its  shore,  c^t  ?».  "'"^"^  ""^  ""'"■«^'' 

prevented  us  from  expTorirl  ^7"^  ^™'  "■«  ^^-e,  and 
f-lings  of  all  on  board^n  , ''"'''  ^'"^'^-  ^hat  the 
be  read  in  the  anXus  fl^  ofb^r'""'''  ""'  """'  ^'^^' 

Our  captain,  .ho  had  nevrrllttrrr  ""'  ^^^^• 
any  apprehensions  on  the  subi  pcT^  ^        '  entertained 

viction  that  he  should  neveroi  tl  " '"f"''^  '"  "^  ""'^  »»" 
cholera  -  Left  it  h,  Russ^C  it  2  "'"^  ^  "  ^'^  ^-<^'' 
meets  me  again  m  Canada      Mn  ?^  '''*"™ '°  ^<='*_ 

,     Montreaf  from  tr'^  ta^TJ  ^  l"''^  ««"-" 
lacks  the  grandeur,  the  stem  sXitv  rfT^'^t' ''"' '' 
mountain  that  forms  the  ),..l.„        j   "        ^''*''''     ^he  fine 
«'.  Helens  h.  front^/tS::   o"  t  t^f'  ^'^^  »' 

darker  bfue  tint  of  L  foSe^^ver  "''''!/°-' -"^  «>« 
remarkable  features  in  the  llLc  "e  "^~'-*'  ""^ 
at  that  period,  dirty  and  ill-pave4^1d^h,'°™  !'^^'^^«'' 
the  sewers,  in  order  to  nurifv  f  J    i  °^™"S  °^  «H 

of  the  pestilence,  renfeed^hf  ^r  ?^  ''"P  *^  ™^'«es 
^passable,  and  toadedX  jr     >f  °  *"™''ghfares  almost 

likely  to  produce  thai     avtre     "'°'"*'^  ^«"™'  »-« 

stay  the  coui-se  of  the  plague,  the 


OUR  JOURNEY  UP  IBB  OOUSTRT.  31 

Violence  of  which  had,  i„  all  probability,  been  increased  bv 

— n,  or.he  veL^;:;rs:.l;^°:;Set^ 

by  no  means  mereased  our  desire  to  go  on  Le.  ' 

It  w,ll  be  a  miracle  if  you  escape,"  he  said.     «  Hundreds 

d  nti^r""''  '"  *'''^'  """  ''  ^'^l""-  Ayres  had  not  p.ovt 
dcnt,ally  come  among  us,  not  a  soul  would  have  beenalfrat 
this  moment  in  Montreal."  ' 

^^  And  who  is  Stephen  Ayres  ?"  said  I. 
liod  only  knows,"  was  the  arave  renlv     «  Ti 
n-  .„t  from  heaven,  and  his  nar^I^S.."  """'  "'^  ' 

„  T   '  '^^ght  this  man  was  caUed  Stephen  V 
the  etth'^pf  ?"'  ^'""*"^'  """  '«'  "^^'^i-  thai  he  is  not  of 

-thrhLStr .  •:  it  T-r  ^^'^'-i'  "^  ■-'<'°-> 

is  or  wl,„„„    1,  Besides,  no  one  knows  who  he 

«d   hi  hearts  rr-    '^'"?  "^  *'"^™  ™'  "*  *«  --  ^ 
could  L  noli  "T  '•~'  ''"'  "'*  '■^''^'  """^  ""  <>»*- 

-t,  su^ddS'r  ^p  Lcsr-o:^— ;-f  - 

was  a  miracle     IL^r/"^*   .""'*''    ^'"  *'''"«  ''^^'^ 

And  was  he  successful  «" 

pie '.'  ^f!"''"'"  '  .  ''  "^"^  »"  ^'^'-f ;  »d  his  >    aedy  so  sim-  ' 
pie!    J-'or  some  davs  we  all  tnr,n,;.    ••  ^uy  »o  sim- 

have  no  faith  in  him  „t    n     ,  ^    \      "'  *  ^"'^'''  ""^  ™"Id 

derful  cure   upon  1   ;,: '''"'°"«''  ^'  f'"^""-"^  ^"-^  ^on- 

the  doctor     Th?r.         n'  ^''"  "°""  "<>*  ^"'^  ">  ^^"d  ^r 
doctor.    The  Indian  village  waa  attacked  by  the  disease 


!i    H' 


it 


I 


a 


nomniNa  it  m  me  bjtsb. 


'm:.\ 


i 

Id. 


m 


a  fortune.  The  very  doT;  set  for  T  "  ^^  """"" 
it  is  to  bo  hoped  that  in  »T  f  T  ""  '°  ""'^  """"  '  »»d 
from  the  city  "  "'  ''"^^  '"^  ""'  ''"-'>  '^^  cholera 

^"  Do  you  know  his  famous  remedy  ?" 

gasp  .WW  h7m!J  '^  "°'  ""  "^  "'■^"  I  ™  "'  'he  last 

fho  mapiitt  K^rhrrTr'  ■'• ''  '^  ^"  <^™™  fr- 

ointme't,mad;ofC's,  r™a,:d       T'""'  ""  ''™'- "'•*  » 
the  maple-tree ;  audi   S  him  T  wT  ™k  """'  ''""^ 
sugar  and  ley,  which  throw7  him  into  rvilrf      "'""P'" 
I"  about  an  hour  ,he  cramps Tub^e    r^tlS'"'""" 
sleep,  and  when  he  awakes  he  i,  n»,f  !,'  °  *  "1""" 

Such  were  our  first  tM,W,  ofC  '  "•'^'"■'c''' to  health." 

doctor,  who  is  "::;  5\  L;eTt"h'''"V''''  ''"'"'^ 
wonderful  cures     He  .hL    ^  "^  "'"^''^d  some 

the  colony.*  "'^  ""^"""^^  "  ™de  celebrity  throughout 

in  P^^'anl  Z^::^:  ""T'^'  ''°"''^^'  -^  ^P»' 
At  sunset  I  went  r?iT  7'  "^ ^"""'^  "P  ""^  '"""'--y- 
that  swep;  frr  h  ' "er  Tl!  "'""  '"^  ''""'•''^S  "--« 
wi>ite  tenl  of  the  sX^on^h  iZZfrin^^'  ^  *" 
in  the  beams  of  the  sun  »„H  rt   ?   ,  Hcl™s  glittered 

waters,  sounded  so  chee'rv  ,  ^^.'"™"'  ™'^^''  °™^  ">e 

fears  of  the  chole;  t^ZVXlt "''  f  '•™'^'"='"  "" 
cioudedmymind  since 'we  ieft^rTco^rett^ 

from  it«  compleln  anlTZT         '"  ''^"'""^  *'^^  «^"  ^"  ^-^rlca., 


of  a  hundred 
>Id  Jean  oxen 
1  in  triumph, 
me  he  made 
'  them ;  and 
1  the  cholera 


at  the  last 
irawn  from 
^er  with  an 
ashes,  from 
of  maple- 
^rspiration. 
tito  a  quiet 
to  health." 
le  cholera 
3ted  some 
hroughout 

was  spent 
5  country, 
'g  breeze 
tful;  the 
glittered 
over  the 
ished  all 
that  had 
ce  more 

is  notable 
!ome,  but 
Linerican, 


OlTJt  JOVRSET  UP  ms  COUmRT.  _ 

hold  sweet  co„™rse  with  nature,  and  enjo^  the  soft  loveliness 
ot  the  nch  and  harmonious  scene. 

In  the  morning  we  were  obliged  to  visit  the  city  to  make 
the  necessary  arrangements  for  our  upward  journey  The 
day  was  mtcnscly  hot.    A  bank  of  thunderjouds  Lered 

»'  r;  itr  f  7°™'»'"'  "«"  t""  *-.  O-ty  streets  were 
sJent,  and  nearly  deserted.     Here  and  there  n.ight  bo  seen  a 

:;o::L:rr:r:";:si.ee:^  '"'""'^^^'  -"^  ^'^  -^^-^ 

The  sullen  toll  of  the  death-bell,  the  exposure  of  ready-made 
coffins  ,n  the  undertakers'  windows,  and  the  oft-reeurtng 
not,ce  placarded  on  the  walls,  of  funerals  furnished  at  such 
and  such  a  pace,  at  cheapest  rate  and  shortest  notice  pat 
fully  remmded  us,  at  every  turning  of  the  street,  that  death 
^vas  every  whcre-perhaps  lurking  in  our  very  path;  we  fd t 
no  des,re  to  examine  the  beauties  of  the  place'^    wrthL 
ommous  fee  ,„g  pervading  our  minds,  public  buildings  poT 
s  v.ed  ew  attract,ons,  ..„d  we  detennined  Ix,  make  our  stay 
as  short  as  possible.     Compared  with  the  infected  city  tr 
sh,p  appeared  an  ark  of  safety,  and  we  returned  t»  it  wi*  Z 
and  confidence,  too  soon  to  be  destroyed.     We  had  scareclv 

harblttaXt  "  '''-'''''-■  ''-''-  "'  ""«  -P-'" 
It  was  advi«.ble  that  we  should  leave  the  vessel  imme. 
dmtely,  before  the  intelligence  c»uld  reach  the  health-officTrt 
A  few  nnnutes  sufficed  to  make  the  necessary  prepamtas 
and  m  less  than  half-an-hour  we  found  ourseles  oceupl' 
comfortoble  apartments  in  Goodenough's  hotel,  and  our^'paf 
sagctaken  m  the  stage  for  the  following  mornuig.  ^ 

The  transition  was  like  a  dream.     The  change  from  the 
close,  rank  .h,p,  to  large,  airy,  well-furnished  t^ms  and  clean 


il 


*ii 


M 


HoviiuiNu  IT  jy  run  jiu.tir. 


dread  of  the  cholera  involved  all  things  around  us  m  gloom 
and  apprehenaio,,.    No  one  spoke  upon  the  subject,  and  y!^ 
■t  was  evdent  that  it  was  uppermost  in  the  thoughts  of  all 
Several  emigrants  had  died  of  the  terrible  disease  durmg  th^ 
week,  beneath  the  very  roof  that  sheltered  us,  and  its  ravages 
we  were  told,  had  extended  to  the  country  as  far  as  kS 

in  .t'  '"  t't*T  ""!  '■""'""■"S  ™°™"g'  ^0  '"o"'  «-■  places 
m  the  coach  for  Lachine,  and  our  fea,^  of  the  plague  greatly 

ITie  joumoy  from  Montreal  wesUvard   has  been  so  well 

ine  banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence  are  picturesque  and  beautiful 
particularly  m  those  spots  where  there  is  a  good  view  of  he 
Ameri«jnside.  The  neat  farm-houses  lookeV.o  m^  11 
eyes  had  been  so  long  accustomed  to  the  watery  waste  horn 
of  beauty  and  happiness ;  and  the  splendid  orchards,  the  tr!es 
at  ti^at  season  of  the  year  being  loaded  with  ripening  f™  t  of 
all  hues,  were  refreshing  and  delicious. 

My  partiality  for  the  apples  was  regarded  by  a  fellow 
traveller  with  a  species  of  horror.  "  Obuch  then,  not  if 
value  your  life."  Every  draught  of  fr  h  aTr  L  '  VZ 
2-d  me  with  renewed  health  and  spirits,  and  I  d'rUtd 
the  well  meant  advice ;  the  gentleman  who  gave  it  h^d  h,st 
recovered  from  the  terrible  disease.  He  was  a  miAZrl 
m»,  a  W  from  the  Upper  Province,  Ca™  ian  bo™  11^ 
W  visited  Montreal  on  business  for  the  first  time.  ™  wS^ 
«r,  he  said,  m  answer  to  some  questions  put  to  him  bV  mv 
husband  respecting  the  disease,  "  I  can  tell  you  whTitl^ 
man  smitten  with  the  cholera  stares  death  right  ilTle  ^Ic'e; 


lad  not  the 
IS  in  gloom 
t ;  and  yet 
;hts  of  all. 
during  the 
ts  ravages, 
as  Kings- 
ir  coming 
1  its  head- 

>ur  places 

le  greatly 

i  distance. 

so   well 

about  it. 

beautiful, 

!W  of  the 

le,  whose 

;e,  homes 

the  trees 

fruit  of 

I  fellow- 
t,  if  you 
i  water 
egarded 
lad  just 
lie-aged 
■n.     He 
"  Well, 
by  my 
it  is ;  a 
e  face  *. 


OVR  JOURNEY  UP  TIIE  COUNTRY.  25 

and  tho  torment  ho  is  suffering  is  so  great  that  he  would 
gladly  die  to  get  rid  of  it." 

"  \  ou  were  fortunate,  C ,  to  escape,"  said  a  backwoods 

sett)  r,  who  occupied  the  opposite  seat;  "many  a  younger 
man  has  died  of  it." 

"Ay;  but  I  believe  I  ne^er  should  have  taken  it  had  it 
not  been  for  some  things  they  gave  me  for  supper  at  the  hotel ; 
oysters,  they  called  them,  oysters ;  they  were  alive  !  I  was 
once  persuaded  by  a  friend  to  eat  them,  and  I  liked  them 
well  enough  at  the  time.  But  I  declare  to  you  that  I  felt  them 
crawlmg  over  one  another  in  my  stomach  all  night.  The  next 
morning  I  was  seized  ,vith  the  cholera." 

"  Did  you  swallow  them  whole,  C ?"  said  the  former 

spokesman,  who  seemed  highly  tickled  about  the  evU  doings 
of  the  oysters. 

"  To  bo  sure.  I  tell  you,  the  creatures  were  alive.  You 
put  them  on  your  tongue,  and  I'll  be  bound  you'll  be  glad  to 
let  them  slip  down  as  fast  as  you  can." 

«  No  wonder  you  had  the  cholera,"  said  the  backwoodsman, 
"you  deserved  it  for  your  barbarity.  If  I  had  a  good  plate 
of  oysters  here,  I'd  teach  you  the  way  to  eat  them." 

Our  journey  during  the  first  day  was  performed  partly  l.y 
coach,  partly  by  steam.     It  was  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening 
when  wo  landed  at  Cornwall,  and  took  coach  for  Prescott. 
The  country  through  which  we  passed  appeared  beautiful  in' 
the  clear  light  of  the  moon ;  but  the  air  was  cold,  and  slightly 
sharpened  by  frost.     This  seemed  strange  to  me  in  the  early 
part  of  September,  but  it  is  very  common  in  Canada.     Nine 
passengers  were  closely  packed  into  our  narrow  vehicle,  but 
the  sides  being  of  canvas,  and  the  open  space  allowed  for 
windows  unglazed,  I  shivered  with  cold,  which  amounted  to 
a  state  of  suffering  when  the  day  broke,  and  we  approached 
the  little  village  of  Matilda.     It  was  unanimously  voted  by  all 


m 


i'      i 


m 


I '  i 


26 


HOUGIIim  IT  m  THE  Busm 


:!.IM 


m\\ 


■\  :\ 


m 


tttatL""  t""  ''°P  ""''  ''^^'"'««'  «'  -^  -a"  inn  by 
PresZ        '  ""'   ™™   ""^^^    "*-    P-eodi„g   to 

timfXfltld'Ur r  T"  ■""  '"■"•■•''^'  ^-^ ''  was  so™ 
n>e__to  take  ruy  M.nt  into  a  room  rth  1  fire       """"  "'"" 

there,  alw^.s  a  ^reVe?"  '11:^^^  f  ^'*»  = 
Died  by  our  servant.  ™eerJuily  followed,  accompa- 

Our  entrance  was  unexnected  anA  i,, 
to  the  persons  we  f„„  J  I  a    .^  "°  '"''™'  agreeable 

Irish  serLtlupfn  hi  f"'-  ,  ^,''^'f-l°">^<'.  ^ed-haired 
long,  thin  woZ,  S  sharTL  "*?  ""  "'"'  "^"^ '  -"^  * 
-ke,  was  Just  e.ergt  ^tZtS  : IrX^^W  "" 
d~ed  this  appa     Ion  to  be  the  mistress  o7tI;  hole  "^ ' 

The  people  cant  come  in  here  i"  sh„  .„  ! 

voice,  darting  dagger,  ,t  thel„      ,'^         """''''  "  "  shrill 
"  s        u        ""  '""  P'"'"'  old  man. 

What's   that  to  me?     ITi^..  »,„ 
kitchen."  •     ^^y  ^^^^  ^^  business  in  my 

"  Now,  Almira,  do  hold  on     Tf'q  th^  n^    -l  i. 
breakfast  with  us'    and  vnT\  ^^ '  *^^ '^^^^  ^'^^^  stopped  to 
chance."  '      ^  ^""  ^^'^^  ^^  ^on't  often  get  the 

All  this  time  the  fiiir  Air«;,.„  ■• 

could,  and  eyeing  her  L  T  ^''^S  "'  ^^^  "^  ^he 

^ivcHng  over  the  fire  "'  ''"""^  S"^^*^'  ^  -»  ^'ood 

eati'XtLtdr^^t'""-^'  "»-^  ^-  *em  to 


imall  inn  by 
oceeding   to 

it  was  some 
ie  door,  and 
obacco,  and 
^ould  allow 

ght  for  the 
le  kitchen ; 
,  accompa- 

agreeable 
red-haired 
■e  J  and  a 
!:e  a  black 

We  soon  • 
louse. 
fn  a  shrill 

5  are  per- 

3  in  my 

)pped  to 
get  the 

t  as  she 
e  stood 

hem  to 
tny  one 
ymust 


OFJi  JOUBNUY  UP  TEE  COXTNTRT.  37 

stop  and  order  breakfast  at  such  an  unseasonable  hour.     IW 
many  are  there  of  you  ?"  turning  fiercely  to  me. 

''Nine,"  I  answered,  laconically,  continuing  to  chafe  the 
cold  hands  and  feet  of  the  child. 

"Nine !     Tliat  bit  of  beef  will  be  nothing  cut  into  steaks 
for  nme.     What's  to  be  done,  Joe  ?»  (to  the  old  man  ) 
^  "^Eggs  and  ham,  summat  of  that  dried  venison,  and  pumpkin 
pie,   responded  the  aide-de-camp,  thoughtfully.    « I  don't  kno>V 
of  any  other  fixings." 

"Bestir  yourself,  then,  and  lay  out  the  table,  for  the  coach 
cant  stay  long,"  cried  the  virago,  seizing  a  frying-pan  from 
the  wall,  and  preparing  it  for  the  reception  of  the  eggs  and 
ham         I  must  have  the  fire  to  myself.      People  canWe 
crowdmg  here,  when  I  have  to  fix  breakfast  for  nine  ;  partlcu 
Jarly  when  there  is  a  good  room  elsewhere  provided  for  their 
accommodation."     I  took  the  hint,  and  retreated  to  the  par 
lour,  where  I  found  the  rest  of  the  passengers  walking  to  and 
tro,  and  nnpatiently  awaiting  the  advent  of  the  breakfast 

ro  do  Almira  justice,  she  prepared  from  her  scanty  muie^ 
rials  a  very  substantial  breakfast  in  an  incredibly  short  time 
ior  which  she  charged  us  a  quarter  of  a  dollar  per  head 

At  Prescott  we  embarked  onboard  a  fine  new  steamboat, 
mikam  /F.,  crowded  with  Irish  emigrants,  proceeding  to  • 
Cobourg  and  Toronto.  ^ 

While  pacing  the  deck,  my  husband  was  greatly  struck  by 
the  appearance  of  a  middle-aged  man  and  his  wife,  who  sat 
apart  from  the  rest,  and  seemed  struggling  with  intense  grief 
which,  in  spite  of  all  their  efforts  at  concealment,  was  stronc^i; 
impressed  upon  their  features.  Some  time  after  I  fell  into 
conversation  with  the  woman,  from  whom  I  learned  their 
little  history.  The  husband  was  factor  to  a  Scotch  gentle- 
man,  of  large  landed  property,  who  had  employed  him  to 
visit  Canada,  and  renort  the  capabilities  of  the  country  prior 


11 


I#h: 


'^'■■s^-^m^  - 


28 


RominNQ  IT  m  the  bush. 


mil' 


:!(' 


pcnses  of  a,e,r  voyage  had  boon  paid,  and  every  thing  np  to 

wessed  w,th  a  speedy  passage,  and  were  greatly  pleased  with 
«.e  eountry  and  the  people ;  but  of  what'avai  "as  all  tWs 
U  ,r  only  son,  a  fine  lad  of  fourteen,  had  died  that  dayof  he 

LH:       ?  u       '  *"-^  '^'^  '™8'"  ^  ''°™«  ^  this  far  land  • 

r»l-" "^V"?^'"'"' '"''"''''  ""^'"P-^'^t!"  *"  said;  "it would 
strange  eyes  glowonng  upon  me,  I  tak' shame  to  mysel'  I 

;„„t'^\'^T"'''  ""y  P™"™man,"  said  the  husband  m-asn 

1  "we  hat"  T""  'T"    ^"'  "'''  ■""O^"'."  t»™"g  to 
me,     we  have  sair  hearts  the  day  '" 

.hatret:?;t  2:1;^^  tCabii  'f:  i'  *^  -- 

V  listening  to  their  lively  l^ :^:^:--^l 

T^\Tz  it:?;  t?:  '^^  'IT "  ''^  ^^^ ' 

i:„i,.  •  stormy  to  go  upon  deck,— thunder  on/l 

l.ghtn„,g,  accompanied  with  torrents  of  rain     AmM  th'  T 
fusion  of  elements,  I  tried  to  get  a  peen  at  the     t    ??" 
Thousand  Isles  •   but  tl,„   i  ■  •         ^    ^       ""  ^^'">  °t^  the 


OUR  JOURNEY  UP  THE  COUNTRY.  29 

Who  thought  fit  tu  make  his  bed  upon  the  mat  before  the 
cabm  door.  He  sang,  he  shouted,  he  harangued  his  country- 
men on  the  political  state  of  the  Emerald  Isle,  in  a  style 
which  was  loud  if  not  eloquent.  Sleep  was  impossible,  whilst 
his  stentorian  lungs  continued  to  pour  forth  torrents  of  un- 
meaning  sound. 

Our  Dutch  stewardess  was  highly  enraged.  His  con- 
duct,  she  said,  "  was  perfectly  ondacent."  She  opened  the 
door,  and  bestowmg  upon  him  several  kicks,  bade  him  get 
away     out  of  that,"  or  she  would  complain  to  the  captain. 

in  answer  to  this  remonstrance,  he  caught  her  by  the  foot 
and  pulled  her  down.     Then  waving  the  tattered  remains  of 
his  straw  hat  m  the  air,  he  shouted  with  an  air  of  triumph, 
Git  out  wid  you,  you  ould  witch!     Shure  the  ladies,  the 
purty  darlints,  never  sent  you  wid  that '  ugly  message  to  Pat ' 
who   loves  them  so  intirely  that  he  manes  to  kape  watch 
over  them  through  the  blessed  night."     Then  making  a  ludi- 
crous  bow  he  continued,  "  Ladies,  I'm  at  your  sarvice  :  I  only 
wish  I  could  get  a  dispensation  from  the  Pope,  and  I'd  marry 
yeas  all.       The  stewardess  bolted  the  door,  and  the  mad  fel- 
ow  kept  up  such  a  racket  that  we  all  wished  him  at  the  bot- 
tom  of  the  Ontario. 

.rJ^Vf  T^f^'l""''  ^^^  ^"^  g^"^^:^-  The  storm  had 
protracted  the  length  of  our  voyage  for  several  hours,  and  it 
was  midnight  when  we  landed  at  Cobourg. 


'U:-i 


90 


EOUGEING  IT  IN  THE  BUSH, 


' 


ii   i 


f!  f  If 


CHAPTER   lY. 

TOM    WILSON    S    EMIGRATION. 

«  Of  all  odd  felJoTTS,  this  felJoi^  was  the  oddest     I  hav«  = 
in  my  days,  but  I  never  met  with  his  equ^.»  "^^  '"'''  "''"^  '^'^^ge  fish 

j^BOUT  a  month  previous  to  our  emigration  to  Canada  mv 
•^^  husband  said  to  me    "  Yn„  «     ^       .  v^anaaa,  my 

to  dimier  todav     T  ^'^  "^^  ''^P''*^  «^^  ^^^« 

He  has  Jut  ;^^oiirz:trr"^^^  ^^  '^^^'^• 

and  his  lectures  are  attended  f  vfs  tm^sT  '"'""^' 
are  anxiou.  to  obtain  informatioV"^^^^^^^^^^^  ^'^^ 

from  your  friend  R  a.-  ^'  "^suojeet.    I  got  a  note 

over  and  listento  h~,      '  '"°"™^'  ^^«8»g  »«  »«  come 

"  Tn^  W-,  '^     ^'.  "  '"'  "y  ^"''''g  companion  " 

on  ^r^^ZrXl  frV"  ^^'^  ''^  '"e'doordoseC 

mat^  w^e  ..rtr :?r!rw^- rt ' 

do  without  him  at  their  balls  and  picnics  ^"  ^'^ 

One  of  my  sisters,  who  was  writin<r  at  „  t„i,i 
was  hiriily  amused  «^  ti,-  ^  **'''^  "«»"■ "«: 

would  be  an  act  of  charity  i„  Moodio  to  persuade  him  from 


y  strange  fish 


TOM  WILSON'S  L'MIGRATION.  gj 

undertaking  such  a  wild-goose  chase ;  only  that  1  fancy  my 
good  brother  is  possessed  with  the  same  mania." 

"  Nay,  God  forbid  !"  said  I.     « I  hope  this  Mr. with 

the  unpronounceable  name,  will  disgust  them  with  his  elo- 

quence ;  for  B writes  me  word,  in  his  droll  way,  that  he 

18  a  coarse,  vulgar  fellow,  and  lacks  the  dignity  of  a  bear. 
Oh !  I  am  certain  they  will  return  quite  sickened  with  the 
Canadian  project."  Thus  I  laid  the  flattering  unction  to  my 
soul,  httle  dreaming  that  I  and  mine  should  share  in  the 
strange  adventures  of  this  oddest  of  all  odd  creatures. 

It  might  be  made  a  subject  of  curious  inquiry  to  those  who 
delight  in  human  absurdities,  if  ever  there  were  a  character 
drawn  in  works  of  fiction  so  extravagantly  ridiculous  as  some 
which  daily  experience  presents  to  our  view.     We  have  en- 
countered  people  in  the  broad  thoroughfares  of  life  more  cccen 
trie  than  ever  we  read  of  in  books ;  people  who,  if  all  their 
foolish  sayings  and  doings  were  duly  recorded,  would  vie  with 
the  drollest  creations  of  Hood,  or  George  Colman,  and  put  to 
shame  the  flights  of  Baron  Munchausen.     Not  that  Tom  Wil 
son  was  a  romancer;  oh,  no!     He  was  the  very  prose  of 
prose,  a  man  in  a  mist,  who  seemed  afraid  of  moving  about 
for  fear  of  knocking  his  head  against  a  tree,  and  finding  a  hal- 
ter  suspended  to  its  branches-a  man  as  helpless  and  as  indc 
lent  at;  a  baby. 

Mr  Thomas,  or  Tom  Wilson,  as  he  was  familiarly  called 
by  all  his  friends  and  acquaintances,  was  the  son  of  a  gentle 
man,  who  once  possessed  a  large  landed  property  in  the  nei^^h- 
boui^ood ;  but  an  extravagant  and  profligate  expenditure  of 
the  mcome  which  he  derived  from  a  fine  estate  which  had 
descended  from  father  to  son  through  many  generations,  had 
greatly  reduced  the  circumstances  of  the  elder  Wilson  Still 
his  family  held  a  certain  rank  and  standing  in  their  native 
county,  of  which  his  evil  courses,  bad  as  they  were,  could  not 


/     'i 


%li 


ilVl 


33 


Bomiimo  IT  IN  THE  lvsb. 


who%  depnve  them.  The  young  people-and  a  very  largo 
family  they  made  of  sons  and  daughters,  twelve  in  number! 
were  objeets  of  mterest  and  commiseration  to  all  who  knew 

!!r;  71.  ""f"'''  ^""'"  ^"^  J"^"y  held  in  eontempt 
and  detestation  Our  hero  was  the  youngest  of  the  six  sons ; 
and  from  his  childhood  he  was  famous  for  his  rothing-to^oish- 
ness  He  was  too  indolent  to  engage  heart  and  soul  in  the 
manly  sports  of  his  comrades;  and  he  never  thought  it  neces- 
sary  to  commence  learning  his  lessons  until  the  school  had 
been  in  an  hour.    As  he  grew  up  to  man's  estate,  he  might 

and  white  kid  gloves,  making  lazy  bows  to  the  pretty  girls  of 
his  aequamtanee;  or  dressed  in  a  green  shooting-jacket,  with 
a  gun  across  his  shoulder,  sauntering  down  the  wooded  lanes 
wth  a  brown  spaniel  dodging  at  his  heels,  and  looking  a^ 
sleepy  and  mdolent  a.  his  master.  ° 

The  slowness  of  all  Tom's  movements  was  strangely  con. 
ferasted  wrth  his  slight,  elegant,  and  symmetrical  figure]  that 
looked  as  If  It  only  awaited  the  will  of  the  o«ier  to  be  the 
most  active  piece  of  human  machinery  that  ever  responded  to 
the  impulses  of  youth  and  healti,.    But  then,  his  face '    What 
pencil  couM  faithfully  delineate  features  at' once  so  co^S 
and  lugubrious-features  that  one  moment  expressed  the 
most  solemn  senousness,  and  the  next,  the  most  grotesque 
and  absurd  abandonment  to  mirth?    In  him,  aU  extremes 
appeared  to  meet;  the  man  was  a  contradiction  to  himself 
Tom  was  a  person  of  few  words,  and  so  intensely  la2y  that  it 
required  a  strong  effort  of  wiU  to  enable  him  to  answer  the 
questions  of  inquiring  friends;  and  when  at  length  aroused  to 
exercise  his  colloquial  powers,  he  performed  the  task  in  so 
original  a  mamier  that  it  never  failed  to  upset  the  gravity  of 
the  mterrogator.      When  he  raised  his  large,  prominent 
leaden-coloured  eyes  from  the  ground,  and  look' i  L  i^q^S 


■^ 


a  very  largo 
n  number — 
II  who  knew 
in  contempt 
he  six  sons ; 
ing-to-doish- 
l  soul  in  the 
?ht  it  neces- 
school  had 
;e,  he  might 
m  trowsers, 
tty  girls  of 
acket,  with 
oded  lanes, 
looking  aa 

mgely  con- 
gure;  that 
p  to  be  the 
sponded  to 
3e!    What 
30  comical 
essed   the 
grotesque 
extremes 
)  himself. 
izy  that  it 
nswer  the 
roused  to 
isk  in  so 
ravity  of 
•ominent, 
J  inquii  er 


TOM  WIZSO.TS  EMIGRATION.  ^ 

steadily  in   the  face,  the  effect  was  irresistible;    the  laugh 
would  come,_do  your  best  to  resist  it.  ^ 

Poor  Tom  took  this  mistimed  merriment  in  very  good  part 
generally  answering  with  a  ghastly  contortion  which  he  meant' 

'w  Tt'  "'/  ''  '^'  '^^"'^^  ^^--^^  '-  ««d  words,  wTh 
"Well,  that's  funny!     What  makes  you  laughs    At  me  I 

suppose?     I  don't  wonder  nf  if  •  T  ^iv      i       i       " 

m  , ,  "    wonaer  at  it;  J  often  laugh  at  myself." 

Tom  would  have  been  a  treasure  to  an  undertaker.     He 

would  have  been  celebrated  as  a  mute ;  he  looked  as  if  he  had 

been  born  ^n  a  shroud,  and  rocked  in  a  coffin.     TT^e  gravi  y 

w.th  which  he  could  answer  a  ridiculous  or  impertinenf  quet 

tion  completely  disarmed  and  turned  the  shafts  of  malice  back 

to  many  he  had  a  way  of  quietly  ridiculing  others  that  bade 
d    ance  to  all  competition.     He  could  qui.  with  a  smile,  and 

Tom  was  not  without  use  in  his  day  and  generation ;  queer 
and  awkward  as  he  was,  he  was  the  soul  of  truth  and  honour 
You  m    ht  suspect  his  sanity-a  matter  always  doubtful" 
but  his  honesty  of  heart  and  purpose,  never.     When  you  met 
Tom  in  the  streets,  he  was  dressed  with  such  neatness  and 
ar    (to  be  sure  it  took  him  half  a  day  to  make  his  toilet), 
that  It  led  many  persons  to  imagine  that  this  very  ugly  youn  J 
man    considered  himself  an  Adonis;    and  I  musf '^3onfes: 
tha    I  rather  inclined  to  this  opinion.     He  always  paced  the 
pub  ic  streets  with  a  slow,  deliberate  tread,  and  with  his  eye 
fixed  intently  on  the  ground-like  a  man  who  had  lost  his 
Ideas,  and  was  dihgently  employed  in  searching  for  them     I 
chanced  to  meet  him  one  day  in  this  dreamy  mood. 

Plow  do  you  do,  Mr.  Wilson  f    He  stared  at  me  for 
several  minutes,  as  if  doubtful  of  my  presence  or  identity 


f 

1  '  • ' 

1 

1 

\ 

1  uini 


Hll 


84 


ROUOmNa  IT  IN  THE  Busn. 


"  What  was  that  you  said  ?" 

I  repeated  the  question ;  and  he  answered,  ,vi,h  one  of  hi, 
incredulous  smiles, 

"Was  it  to  me  yon  spolte  2    Oh,  I  am  quite  well,  or  I 
.houhl  not  be  wallung  here.     By  the  way,  did  you  scJ  my 

"  How  should  I  linow  your  dogi" 

"  They  say  ho  resembles  me.  ^He's  a  queer  dog  too  •  but 
I  never  could  find  out  the  likeness.     Good  night  -"  ' 

Tins  w.«  at  noonday ;  but  Tom  had  a  habit  of  taking  li^ht 
for  darkness,  and  darkness  for  light,  in  all  he  did  or  s^d 
He  must  have  had  different  eyes  and  oars,  and  a  different  wt 
of  seemg,  hearing,  and  eomprehending,  than  is  possess  dW 

cairy  th,s  abstraction  of  soul  and  sense,  that  he  would  often 
leave  you  abruptly  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence;  and  if  "" 
chanced  to  meet  him  some  weeks  after,  he  would  resumed 
conversation  ,ith  the  very  word  u  which  he  had  euTl  , 
he  thread  of  your  discourse.     A  lady  once  told  him  in  j 
that  her  youngest  brother,  a  lad  of  twelve  vears  old    tl 

tnat  name.  Tom  made  no  answer,  but  started  abruptlvawav 
n>ree  months  after,  she  happened  to  encounter  hto  on  the 
^me  spot,  when  he  accosted  her,  without  any  iZZ^. 

"You  were  telling  me  about  a  donkey.  Miss  „ 

t^Vlir  ^™*-'^-'^->am,  I  think  y^L  ^Z^^l 
yes,  tJraham     a  strange  name  for  an  q««f     t         j        I 
the  great  Mr.  Brahamlould  sayTo  ^^ H.a  hlS:,^'^^' 

Your  memory  must  be  excellent,  Mr  Wi  son  to '»„  n 
you^remember  such  a  trifling  oireumstaneT:^! X"  t'^ 

else  e^:!*?/""  """  '"    ^'>^- '  '-^  «>o.^ht  of  notl'ng 


t 


TOM  WILSOJPS  EMIGRATION.  85 

From  traits  such  as  these  my  readers  will  be  tempted  to 
imagine  him  brother  to  the  animal  who  had  dwelt  so  long 
in  his  thougl^ts ;  but  there  were  times  when  he  surmounted 
1  us  strange  absence  of  mind,  and  could  talk  and  act  as  sensi- 
bly  as  other  folks. 

On  the  death  of  ...  father,  he  emigrated  to  New  South 
Wales,  where  he  contrived  to  doze  away  seven  years  of  his 
valueless  existence,  suffering  his  convict  servants  to  rob  him 
of  every  thing,  and  finally  to  burn  his  dwelling.     He  returned 
to  his  native  village,  dressed  as  an  Italian  mendicant,  with  a 
monkey  perched  upon  his  shoulder,  and  playing  airs  of  his 
own  composition  upon  a  hurdy-gurdy.     In  this  disguise  he 
sought  the  dwelling  of  an  old  bachelor  uncle,  and  solicited  his 
charity.     But  who  that  had  once  seen  our  friend  Tom  could 
ever  forget  him  %     Nature  had  no  counterpart  of  one  who  in 
mind  and  form  was  alike  original.     The  good-natured  old 
soldier,  at  a  glance,  discovered  his  hopeful  nephew,  received 
him  into  his  house  with  kindness,  and  had  afforded  him  an 
asylum  ever  since.     One  little  anecdote  of  him  at  this  period 
will  illustrate  the  quiet  love  of  mischief  with  which  he  was 

imbued.     Travelling  from  W to  London  in  a  stage- 

coach  (railways  were  not  invented  in  those  days),  he  entered 
mto  conversation  with  an  intelligent  farmer  who  sat  next  him  • 
New  South  Wales,  and  his  residence  in  that  colony,  formmg 
the  leading  topic.  A  dissenting  minister  who  happened  to  be 
his  vis-a-vis,  and  who  had  annoyed  him  by  making  several 
impertinent  remarks,  suddenly  asked  him,  with  a  sneer,  how  ' 
many  years  he  had  been  there.  ,_^ 

"  Seven,"  returned  Tom,  in  a  solemn  tone,  without  deigning ' 
a  g-.     T  at  his  companion. 

"  1  tnought  so,"  responded  the  other,  thrusting  his  hands 
mto  his  breeches  pockets.  "And  pray,  sir,  what  were  you 
sent  there  for?"  ^ 


86 


MOUOHING  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


'  !■> 


a  ride  outside  in  the  r^"f         "'""='""'"'  '»  «t<>P.  P^eferrbg 
«-t„  enJoitaTh::  rhrehte  rTtoti, "  r.    """' 

«  w7LTf  "^^  ''"'^'^"'  ^ '°™  -*  -- ™! 

played  uponTe  ^ol.n      /r""""'"  ""'^''  '""^  "»"*.  »d 

the  '>-thi„^a:ra:n^^:"s'7^^^^^^^^  "^™ 

experienced  a  sudrl^ n  ,1,.         j   f  ^  '  '^"^^  faculties 

gaLoIled  for  a  ^rfu  f^^.r'  ""^  ^"-"""^ "'  '«"«  '^»Ped  and 
laughed,  danced  sal  1        ,  T"'™"'*'''  ^'™'"^    «« 

hear  yl^C^^rr^^r  ^^'"^'^'  -»—  ^ 
wife,"^a  nat'het  b  stweTnoo  I  ""  "'  ^°"  •""* 
"or  I  shali  certain,,  runt;:-*  ^ "  ^  "™'^'  ''"^"''') 

too  .ueh  over/o/ed^r  ia";  ZIT'''  ^<"'  ™'^^  "o 
cont:p::eVa:  SmLT?  t '"'t'  "^'"^  ^vho  no. 

in  the  s^cuiation  Zf^::::,^z^-  """^ ''  ^"-^^^^ 

a  hot  supper  and  a  cup  of  coffee  afteTZv  i         ^''''^'*'^ 
tW  did  an^ple  Justice^.  .,  Ze" ^^  1!  u^L:;^ 


TOM  WILHON^S  EMIGRATION.  37 

high  spirits,  and  appeared  wholly  bent  upon  liis  Canadian  ex- 
pedition. 

^  "  Mr.  C must  have  been  very  eloquent,  Mr.  Wilson," 

said  I,  « to  engage  your  attention  for  so  many  hours." 

"  Perhaps  he  was,"  returned  Tom,  after  a  pause  of  some 
minutes,  during  which  he  seemed  to  bo  groping  for  words  in 
the  salt-cellar,  having  deliberately  turned  out  its  contents  upon 
the  table-cloth.  "  We  were  hungry  after  our  long  walk,  and 
he  gave  us  an  excellent  dinner." 

"But  that  had  nothmg  to  do  with  the  substance  of  his 
lecture." 

^^  "It  was  the  substance,  after  all,"  said  Moodie,  laughing; 
and  his  audience  seemed  to  tliink  so,  by  the  attention  they 
paid  to  It  during  the  discussion.  But,  come,  Wilson,  give  my 
Wife  some  account  of  the  intellectual  part  of  the  entertain- 
ment. 

"  What !  I—I— I-_I  give  an  account  of  the  lecture  ?    Why 
my  dear  fellow,  I  never  listened  to  one  word  of  it !" 

"  [  thought  you  went  to  Y- on  purpose  to  obtain  In- 

tormation  on  the  subject  of  emigration  to  Canada^" 

"Well,  and  so  I  did;  but  when  the  fellow  pulled  out  his 
pamphlet,  and  said  that  it  contained  the  substance  of  his  lee- 
ture,  and  would  only  cost  a  shilling,  I  thought  that  it  was 
better  to  secure  the  substance  than  endeavour  to  catch  the 
^•^hadow-so  I  bought  the  book,  and  spared  myself  the  pain  of 
lis  ^ening  to  the  oratory  of  the  writer.     Mrs.  Moodie,  he  had 
a  shockmg  delivery,  a  drawlmg,  vulgar  voice  ;   and  he  spoke 
with  such  a  nasal  twang  that  I  could  not  bear  to  look  at  him 
or  listen  to  hini.    He  made  such  grammatical  blunders,  that 
my  sides  ached  with  laughing  at  him.     Oh,  I  wish  you  'could 
have  seen  the  wretch  !      But  here  is  the  document,  written  in 
the  same  style  in  which  it  was  spoken.     Read  it :  you  have 
a  rich  treat  in  store."  ^ 


r 


111 


j       P 


Ff  '%■-.{ 


ae 


iili  ii 


■iii  liU 


I         ; 


Rouoirma  it  in  the  Busit. 


of  ]^l '''  77t''  T.^  ""^''  '^"""^  ^' '''  '^--Ption 

"  AnTT'    r7     ""  ^  ^'^'  ""  uncharitable  dislike. 
And  how  did  you  contrive  to  entertain  yourself  Mr 
Wilson,  during  his  long  address  ?»  ^  '      ^' 

"By  thinking  how  many  fools  were  collected  to<rether  to 
listen  to  one  greater  than  the  rest.  By  the  wav  Mfv,^ 
you  notice  farmer  Flitch  ?"  ^  ^'  ^"""^'^^  ^'^ 

"No;  where  did  he  sit T 

"At  the  foot  of  the  table.     You  must  have  seen  him  h. 

h?; "  mi:  Hdi  r t^^'  ^^^  ^  ^eiightfur;;:  i: 

the  ;oar;    h  t"^^^^^^^  -- ^---  ?^^-  and 

i  o  "^  wds  carving  !     I  was  wonder  nt/  all  dinnpr 

t.me  how  that  man  contrived  to  cut  up  that  p,V  •    fo  '  t 

waa    xcd  upon  the  ceiling,  and  the  otJZlJZZZ 

fonatoly  at  me.     It  was  very  droll ;  wa«  it  not  r       ' 

And  what  do  you  intend  doir.L.  with  yourself  »),.„ 
arrive  in  Canada?"  said  I.  yourself  when  you 

"  Find  out  some  large  hollow  tree,  and  live,  like  Bruin  in 
*e  wmter,  by  suclcing  my  paws.    In  the  snmme  there  w,b: 
plenty  of  mast  and  acorns  to  satisfy  the  want,  of         i 
mious  fellow."  ^  '^  °^  *"  "''^'e- 

"But,  jokuig  apart,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  mv  hushnnd 
anions  to  induce  him  to  abandon  a  scheme  so  hopeless  "„' 
hTdsMpI"*"^'^""  "^  "'  allquaMedforalife  ^Z  Jl 

eyes  steadfastly  upon  his  inter  Sof'w^^  an  2of^  'tZ 
-rd  ^avity  that  we  burst  into  a'hearty  t^h  "°''  ""^ 

ve^tLltl^r-^'"^-^    '—I  a^^ed  you  a 


description 

iko. 

urself,  Mr. 

ogether,  to 
foodie,  did 


2n  him,  he 
squint  ho 
ti  him  and 
ill  dinner- 
•r  one  eye 
^cry  affec- 


when 


you 


Bruin  in 
'e  will  be 
m  abste- 

husband, 

less,  "do 
toil  and 

y,  black 
1  leaden 
such  ab- 

[  you  a 

liat  you 


TOAf  WILSON'S  EMIGRATION,  39 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  weep,"  said  Tom ;  "  but  as  to  our 
rjuahHcations,  Moodio,  I  think  them  pretty  equal.     I  know 
you  tliink  otherwise,  but  I  will  explain.     Let  me  see ;  what 
was  I  going  to  say  ?-ah,  I  have  it !     You  go  with  the  inten- 
fon  of  clearing  land,  and  working  for  yourself,  and  doing  a 
great  deal.     I  have  tried   that  before  in  New  South  Wales 
and  1  know  that  it  won't  answer.     Gentlemen  can't  work  like 
labourers,  and  if  they  could,  they  won't_it  is  not  in  th.m 
and  that  you  will  find  out.     You  expect,  by  going  to  Canada,' 
to  make  your  fortune,  or  at  least  secure  a  comfc.rtable  inde- 
pendence.     I  anticipate  no  such  results ;  yet  I  mean  to  go, 
partly  out  of  a  whim,  partly  to  satisfy  my  curiosity  whether 
It  IS  a  better  country  than  New  South  Wales ;  and  lastly  in 
the  hope  of  bettering  my  condition  in  a  small  way,  which'  at 
present  is  so  bad  that  it  can  scarcely  be  worse.     I  m^an  to 
purchase  a  farm  with  the  three  hundred  pounds  I  received  last 
week  from  the  sale  of  my  father's  property ;  and  if  the  Cana- 

dian  soil  yields  only  half  what  Mr.  C says  it  does,  I  need 

not  starve.     But  the  refined  habits  in  which  you  have  been 
brought  up,  and  your  unfortunate  literary  propensities-(I  say 
nnfortunate,-because  you  will  seldom  meet  people  in  a  colony 
who  can  or  will  syr  M.thizc  with  you  in  these  Dm-SMts)-they 
will  make  y.        .  object  of  mistrust  and  envy  to  those  who 
cannot  appreciate  them,  and  will  be  a  source  of  (v>nstant  mor- 
titication  and  disappointment  to  yourself.    Thank  God  '  I  have 
no  literary  propensities;  but  in  spite  of  the  latter  advantage 
m  all  r.obability  I  shall  make  no  exertion  at  all ;  so  that  your 
energy,  damped  by  disgust  and  disappointment,  and  my  lazi- 
ness,  will  end  in  the  same  thing,  and  we  shall  both  return  like 
bad  pennies  to  our  native  shores.     But,  as  I  have  neither  wife 
nor  child  to  involve  in  my  failure,  I  think,  without  much  self- 
flattery,  that  my  prospects  are  better  than  yours." 

This  was  the  longest  soeech  T  ev^r  heo^  1  T^^  „**..- .  -^.i 


1 

<■ 

1 

i 

"  j 

1 

•  •: 

■ 

1 

w 

1 

fl-1: 

1 

•» 

i^H 

(U 


iii;:i 


11    iff! 


40  EOJTGHINa  IT  IN  THE  BUSE. 

the  thought  of  leavmo  mv  f      T    .    '^'P'"'""''  '■''^^  "«"'•. 

awoke  without  finding  ,„„„,„,  ^JX^^P-    I-Mom 
of  May  was  upon  the  earthiof  an  Y.JltC  ^   ^7 

to  the  ™.,.,  ^  ::rfhfzr4:Tr "Totr 

beloved  ho^e  o/r  ,X? '„T  """^T  '"^  °"  ^^''"'  *« 

more  upon  the  velvet  sward  that  carpeted  tt^lV"" 
whUe  repostog  beneath  those  noble  frees  til  T  ,^'«  *■" 
dulged  hi  those  delicious  dreams  whilT       I  ^'^  '"' 

enjoyments  of  Ae  spirit.Cd  h  ;^°\r  "  '"T'''  "'  *<> 
its  aspirations  m  a  language  unk^owZ;  ^^^"^es  forth 
that  language  is  Poe^.  Here  a luaUvT""""  "'"'^ ' '""' 
I  had  renewed  my  friendshrwlhT  r^'  ""  ^""'  *°  y^^''' 
lets,  and  listened ^itrttf^fc^trt/r^r:  '"'*  "°- 
— „y  of  ^e  blackbird,  whistfea^l'::^  t  ^^f 


TOM  WILSON^S  EMIGRATION.  4I 

Of  May  blossoms.  Here,  I  had  discoursed  sweet  words  to  the 
tmkhng  brook,  and  learned  from  the  melody  of  waters  the 
music  of  natural  sounds.  In  these  beloved  solitudes  all  the 
holy  emotions  which  stir  the  human  heart  in  its  depths  had 
been  freely  poured  forth,  and  found  a  response  in  the  harmo- 
mous  voice  of  Nature,  bearing  aloft  the  choral  song  of  earth 
to  the  throne  of  the  Creator. 

Dear,  dear  England!  why  was  I  forced  by  a  stern  neces- 
sity to  leave  you?  What  heinous  crime  had  I  committed, 
that  I,  who  adored  you,  should  be  torn  from  your  sacred 
bosom,  to  pme  out  my  joyless  existence  in  a  foreign  clime? 
Oh,  that  I  might  be  permitted  to  return  and  die  upon  your" 
wave-encircled  shores,  and  rest  my  weary  head  and  heart  be- 
neath  your  daisy-covered  sod  at  last ' 

****** 
Whilst  talking  over  our  coming  separation  with  my  sister 
t~-,  we  observed  Tom  Wilson   walking   slowly   up   i\,^ 
path  that  led  to  the  house.     lie  was  dresse^d  in  a  n'ew  Lo. 
mg-jacket  with  his  gun  lying  carelessly  across  his   shoulder 
and  an  ugly  pointer  dog  following  at  a  little  distance. 

Well  Mrs.  Moodie,  I  am  off,"  said  Tom,  shaking  hands 
with  my  sister  instead  of  me.     "  I  suppose  I  shall  see  Moodie 

affe^y."^'"  '^  ''-  '''''^'-y  ^^^^"P-ing  him 
to  tl':^  "t^llfl  ''-''    -''  ^-   "  ^0  you  mean 

f.  Ti.^''  ?^^  t'^'^  !-Duchess  a  beast  ?    Why  she  is  a  per- 
feet  beauty !     Beauty  and  the  beast !  Ila,  ha,  ha !  I  gave  two 

Mrs.  Moodie,  your  sister  is  no  judge  of  a  dog  " 

;  ^7  likely,''  returned  C ,  laughing.     "  And  you  go 

otown  tonight,  Mr.  Wilson?    I  thought  as  you  came  up  to 
tne  house  thai  you  were  equipped  for  shooting." 


■  m 


42 


Romnma  it  in  the  Busm 


m 


«  To  be  sure ;  there  is  capital  shooting  in  Canada." 
vou  f!L      T  heard_p,enty  of  bears  and  wolves.   I  suppose 
you  take  out  your  dog  and  gun  in  anticipation  1"  ^ 

"True,"  said  Tom. 

«  But  you  surely  are  not  going  to  take  that  dog  with  you  1- 
Indeed  I  am.     She  is  a  most  valuable  brute      The  very 
best  venture  I  could  take.     My  brother  Charles  has  engaged 
our  passage  in  the  same  vessel."  *■ 

"It  would  be  a  pity  to  .part  yon,"  said  I.     "May  you 
»roje  as  lueky  a  pair  as  Whittington  and  his  eat."  ^ 

sister^^dt^""-  ^'''""8'™'"  ^^^  Tom,  staring  at  my 
aster,  and  begmnmg  to  dream,  which  he  invariably  did  in  the 
company  of  women.     "  Who  was  the  gentleman  '" 

'A  very  old  friend  of  mine,  one  whom  I  h.ave  known 

^toTrn  '  ™'''  ""'?""''"  ^""'  "^  ^'•''^■•'  "  ""'  '  have  n™ 
hme  to  tell  you  more  about  him  no«r.   If  you  go  to  St  Paul's 

Churehyard  and  inquire  for  Sir  Richard  Whitlington  a^d    i 
cat,  you  will  get  his  history  for  a  mere  trifle  " 

"Do  not  mind  her,  Mr.  Wilson,  she  is  quizzing  you  » 
quoth  I;  "I  wish  you  a  safe  voyage  across  the  Atlltl-  I 
wish  I  could  add  a  happy  meeting  with  your  friends  But 
where  shall  we  find  friends  in  a  strange  land  ^" 

"  All  in  good  time,"  said  Tom.  "  I  hope  to  have  the  plea* 
«re  of  meeting  you  in  the  backwoods  of  Canada  before  three 
months  are  over.  What  adventures  we  shall  have  to  tell  onl 
another!    It  will  be  capital.     Good-bye."  , 

*  *  *  *  »  •  ' 

"Tom  has  sailed,"  said  Captain  Charles  Wilson,  stepping 
nto  my  little  parlour  a  few  days  after  his  eccentric  broE 
last  visit.  "I  saw  him  and  Duchess  safe  on  board.  Odd  as 
he  18, 1  parted  with  him  with  a  full  heart ;  I  felt  as  if  we  never 
should  meet  again.  Poor  Tom!  he  is  the  only  brothe"  lift 
me  now  that  I  can  love.    Robert  and  I  never  Vofd %  '^ 


if 


TOM  WILSOIPS  EMIGRATION.  43 

well,  and  there  is  little  chance  of  our  meeting  in  this  world 

He  IS  married,  and  settled  down  for  life  in  New  South  Wales' 

and^the  rest,  John,  Richard,  George,  are  all  gone-all !»         ' 

Was  Tom  m  good  spirits  when  you  parted'?" 

"  Yes.     He  is  a  perfect  contradiction.     He  always  laughs 

r   .T 11U      T"^  P^'^'-     '  ^^^^^^^ '  ^'  '^^^  ^ith  a  loud 
laugh,    tell  the  g.rls  to  get  some  new  music  agaLt  I  return 

and,  hark  ye  !  .    I  never  come  back,  I  leave  th^em  my  Kang^ 
roo  Waltz  as  a  legacy.' "  ° 

"  What  a  strange  creature  !" 

"Strange  indeed;  you  don't  know  half  his  oddities      He 
h^   very  httle  n,o„ey  ..  take  out  with  him,  but  he  a  tual  J 
pa,d  for  two  berths  in  the  ship,  that  he  .night  not  chanee  to 
W  a  person  who  snored  sleep  near  hinT.    'mnj  ^Z 
hrown  away  upon  the  mere  chance  of  a  snoring  companion - 
Bes,des,  Charies,'  quoth  he, '  I  cannot  endure  to  slarZy    tl 
cabmwul,  others;  they  will  use  my  towels,  and  combs  and 
brushes  hke  that  confounded  rascal  who  slept  in  the  Ime 
berth  wuh  me  coming  from  New  South  WalL,  who  had    he 
.-dence  to  dean  his  teeth  with  my  tooth-bA.sh.     H^rfl 
:...«.  be  alone,  happy  and  comfortable  as  a  prince  and  Dnch 
ess  shall  sleep  in  the  after-berth,  and  be  my  nuet:  '    Z 
we  parted,"  continued  Captain  Charles    ^"MavGo^.  i" 
care  of  him,  for  he  never  could  take  -are  of  himSr' "'  "''"' 
That  puts  me. in  mind  of  the  reason  he  gave  for  not 

s:fa"n-ht^rhrjr^r^^f^^^^^ 

wm  marry  on'that  accoune  '  ™'  "^^  *"'  ''"'  "^^ 

***** 

We  left  the  British  shores  on  the  1st  of  Tnl.*     a     • 
^2nl^t:\:Vt^j!,'T^'^^-'  -S^^-    Tom 


^4 


the  1st  of  May,  and  had  a  speedy 


passage.  an(i 


44 


ROUGHINa  IT  IN  TEE  BUSH, 


i!w'  ! 


Ml! 


12  hT.      f  '""  ""'  '"^^^^'  comfortably  settled  in  the 

li  mv  brofJ  '  f  ''''  ^''^  ^'^^'  ^"^  ''  ^'  ^^^  settled 
neai  my  brother's  location,  we  congratulated  ourselves  that 
oureeeentric  friend  had  found  a  'f.e  in  the  w7de;i^^^^^^^ 
last,  and  that  we  should  soon  see  '  :,u  .gain        '"''''"""'''  ^* 

crcA^ded  with  emigrants;  and  when  we  arrvprl  «f  ,i. 

we  Ipflrnf  +ko^  ii,  arrived  at  the  inn. 

fi,„  .1  i^    '     P      °'  ^y^  glanced  upon  me  thrr.iml, 

^e  t,„o  y,  i^  possible  ?-could  it  be  Tom  WW 
Did  any  other  human  being  possess  sueh  eyes,  or  111"  in 
such  an  eccentric  mam,cr  ?    In  another  second  he  had  tld 

"Tom  Wilson,  is  that  you^" 

neslo^/  T  ^i*'  ''  •     '  "'''''  "y^^'f  *at  there  is  no  like- 
ne^  of  such  a  handsome  fellow  to  be  found  in  the  worid     ft 

.«s'in  that  inferntS  1^:^:^^-  ^ 

"You  shall  have  mine,"  said  Tom     «T  o.r.    i 
bargam-IU  go  and  settle  it  with  the  Yankee  directly;  he'a 


ittled  in  the 
e  operations 
was  settled 
rselves  that 
ilderness  at 

^illiam  IV, 

,  on  the . 

boat  was 
at  the  inn, 
bed  to  be 
angers  that 
tin  one  by 
iofa  for  me 
r  from  the 
3,  crowded 
e  through 
L  Wilson? 
se  them  in 
id  pushed 
net,  'twas 


■s  no  like- 
^orld.  It 
iwear  hj. 
itoes  and 
iel" 
love  or 

f^p  upon 
.  It's  a 
lyj  he's 


TOM  WILSON>S  EMiaBATlON.  45 

the  best  fellow  in  the  world  !     In  the  moan  while  here  is  a 
httle  parlom.  which  is  a  joint-stock  affair  between  some  of  u! 
young  hopeft,  s  for  the  time  being.     Step  in  here,  and  I  wil 
go  for  .hoodie;  I  long  to  tell  him  what  I  think  .,  this  con 
founded  country.     But  you  will  find  it  out  all  in  good     J- 
and,  rubbn.g  his  hands  together  with  a  most  lively  and  mil 
ch.evous  expression,  he  shouldered  his  way  through  trul 
a^id  boxes,  and  anxious  faces,  to  communicate  to  my  husband 
the  arrangement  he  had  so  kindly  made  for  us 

" Accept^this  gentleman's  offer,  sir,  till  to-morrow,"  said 

for  yo;;;7;mi  V    w"  "'"  ""'^^^^'^^  arrangements 

M       T    *''?y'  ^"*  ^«  ar^^  crowded-crowded  to  excess 

o^rTht  sTableT^"  "^  ^''^^'  ^^  ^'^^^  ^^  ^  '^''^  ^^^^^^ 
over  the  stable,  to  give  our  guests  more  room.     Hard  that  I 

guess,  for  decent  people  to  locate  over  the  hordes  »  ' 

These  matters  settled,  Moodie  returned  with  Tom  Wilson 
to  the  little  parlour,  in  which  T  Inrl  oi..„  i  t  ^^^^°^ 
home.  ^^  "^^^^  ^^'self  at 

"  Well  now,  is  it  not  funny  that  I  should  be  the  first  to 
welcome  you  to  Canada  ?"  said  Tom. 

II  But  what  are  you  doing  here,  my  dear  fellow?" 
fehaking  every  day  with  the  ague.     But  I  could  laugh  in 
spite  of  my  teeth  to  hear  them  make  such  a  confounded  ra^ 
thng ;  you  would  think  they  were  all  quarrelling  which  hould 

tt  frl      "'  ""''•    ^'  ""'"^'^^  -ania'forms  one  of 
the  chief  attractions  of  this  new  country  » 

coml'  '^'h^I  ^  \  ~"'  ''"  *'"  "^^  P^^^  ^^  ^-d  be- 
come     that  this  climate  cannot  agree  with  you  " 

"Nor  I  with  the  climate.     Well,  we  shall  soon  be  quits 

« told     "  '  ^''''  ^''''^  "^'^^  '^  •" 

*'  To  whom  ?" 


! 


I' 


I.  1' 


1^  H 

Hi         I 


mmnas 


i:i-  ill 


I'Mi'l 


ll  Wii 


'  I 


46 


ROUQHING  IT  IN  THE  BUSH, 


"  To  one  who  will  take  better  care  of  both  than  I  did. 
Ah  !  such  a  country !— such  people  !~such  rogues  !  It  beats 
Australia  hollow ;  you  know  your  customers- there— but  here 
you  have  to  find  them  out.  Such  a  take-in !— God  forgire 
them  !  I  never  could  take  care  of  money ;  and,  one  way  or 
other,  they  have  cheated  me  out  of  all  mine.  I  have  scarcely 
enough  left  to  pay  my  passage  home.  But,  to  provide  agamst 
the  worst,  I  have  bought  a  young  bear,  a  splendid  fellow,  to 
make  my  peace  with  my  uncle.  You  must  see  him ;  he  is 
close  by  in  the  stable." 

"  To-morrow  we  will  pay  a  visit  to  Bruin ;  but  to-night 
do  tell  us  something  about  yourself,  and  your  residence  in  the 
bush." 

"  You  will  know  enough  about  the  bush  by  and  by.  I 
am  a  bad  historian,"  he  continued,  stretching  out  his  legs  and 
yawning  horribly,  "  a  worse  biographer.  I  never  can  find 
words  to  relate  facts.  But  I  will  try  what  I  can  do ;  mind, 
don't  laugh  at  my  blunders." 

We  promised  to  be  serious— no  easy  matter  while  looking 
at  and  listening  to  Tom  Wilson,  and  he  gave  us,  at  detached 
intervals,  the  following  account-  of  himself : 

"  My  troubles  began  at  sea.     We  hud  a  fair  voyage,  and 
all  that ;  but  my  poor  dog,  my  beautiful  Duchess  !— that 
beauty  in  the  beast— died.     I  wanted  to  read  the  funeral 
service  over  her,  but  the  captain  interfered— the  brute !— and 
threatened  to  throw  me  into  the  sea  along  with  the  dead 
bitch,  as  the  unmannerly  rufiian  persisted  in  calling  my  canine 
friend.     I  never  spoke  to  him  again  during  the  rest  of  the 
voyage.     Nothing  happoned  worth  relating  until  I  got  to  this 
place,  where  I  chanced  to  meet  a  friend  who  kne'w  your  bro- 
ther,  and  I  went  up  with  him  to  the  woods.    Most  of  the  wise 
men  of  Gotham  we  met  on  the  road  were  bound  to  the  woods ; 
so  I  felt  happy  that  I  was,  at  least,  in  the  fashion.    Mr. \ 


TOM  WILS02PS  EMIGRATION. 


ban  I  did. 
It  beats 
—but  here 
ad  forgiye 
lie  way  or 
e  scarcely 
de  against 
fellow,  to 
m ;  ho  is 

t  to-night 
nee  in  the 

d  by.     I 

1  legs  and 

can  find 


o;  mind, 


e  looking 
detached 

(^age,  and 
IS ! — that 
i  funeral 
;e ! — and 
ihe  dead 
y  canine 
it  of  the 
>t  to  this 
our  bro- 
the  wise 
woods ; 
[r. 


47 


was  very  kind,  and  spoke  in  raptures  of  the  woods,  which 
formed  the  theme  of  conversation  during  our  journey ;  their 
beaut},  their  vastness,  the  comfort  and  independence  enjoyed 
by  those  who  had  settled  in  them ;  and  he  so  inspired  me 
with  the  subject  that  I  did  nothing  all  day  but  sing  as  we  rode 
along — 

"  A  life  in  the  woods  for  me ;" 

until  we  came  to  the  woods,  and  then  I  soon  learned  to  smg 
that  same,  as  the  Irishman  says,  on  the  other  side  of  my 
mouth." 

Here  succeeded  a  long  pause,  during  which  friend  Tom 
seemed  mightily  tickled  with  lus  reminiscences,  for  he  leaned 
back  in  his  chair,  and  from  time  to  time  gave  way  to  loud, 
hollow  bursts  of  laughter. 

"Tom,  Tom!  are  you  going  mad?"  said  my  husband, 
shaking  him. 

"  I  never  was  sane,  that  I  know  of,"  returned  he.  "  You 
know  that  it  runs  in  the  family.  But  do  let  me  have  my 
laugh  out.  The  woods!  Ha!  ha!  When  I  used  to  be 
roaming  through  those  woods,  shooting— though  not  a  thing 
could  I  ever  find  to  shoot,  for  birds  and  beasts  are  not  such 
fools  as  our  English  emigrants— and  I  chanced  to  think  of  you 
coming  to  spend  the  rest  of  your  lives  in  the  woods— I  used 
to  stop,  and  hold  my  sides,  and  laugh  untU  the  woods  rang 
again.     It  was  the  only  consolation  I  had." 

"  Good  Heavens !"  said  I,  "  let  us  never  go  to  the  woods." 

"  You  will  repent  if  you  do,"  continued  Tom.     «  But  let 

me  proceed  on  my  journey.     My  bones  were  well-nigh  dis- 

located  before  we  got  to  D .     The  roads  for  the  last 

twelve  miles  were  nothing  but  a  succession  of  mud-holes, 
covered  with  the  most  ingenious  invention  ever  thought  of  for 
racking  the  limbs,  caLed  corduroy  bridges:   not  breeches 


:i 

I 

u 


i 


H 

■4 
% 


Kl'i 


\" 


I. 


48 


ROUOITING  IT  m  TEE  BUSE. 


mind  you,~for  I  thought,  whilst  jolting  up  and  down  over 
them,  that  I  should  arrive  at  my  destination  minus  that  indis- 
pensable covering.     It  was  night  when  we  got  to  Mr. 's 

place.     I  was  tired  and  hungry,  my  face  disfigured  and  Wis- 
tered  by  the  unremitting  attentions  of  the  black-flies  that  rose 
m  swarms  from  the  river.     I  thought  to  get  a  private  room 
to  wash  and  dress  in,  but  there  is  no  such  thing  as  privacy  in 
this  country.     In  the  bush,  all  things  are  in  common ;  you 
cannot  even  get  a  bed  without  having  to  share  it  with  a  com- 
panion.    A  bed   on  the  floor  in  a  public  sleeping-room! 
Tlunk  of  that ;  a  public  sleeping-room  !_men,  women,  and 
children,  only  divided  by  a  paltry  curtain.     Oh,  ye  gods ! 
think  of  the  snoring,  squalling,  grumbling,  puffing;  think  of 
the  kicking,  elbowing,  and  crowding;  the  suffocating  heat— 
the  mosquitoes,  with  their  infernal  buzzing— and  you  will 
form  some  idea  of  the  misery  I  endured  the  first  night  of  my 
arrival  in  the  bush. 

"  But  these  are  not  half  the  evils  with  which  you  have  to 
contend.     You  are  pestered  with  nocturnal  visitants  far  more 
disagreeable  than  even  the  mosquitoes,  and  must  put  up  with 
annoyances  more  disgusting  than  the  crowded,  close  room. 
And  then,  to  appease  the  cravings  of  hunger,  fat  pork  is 
served  to  you  three  times  a-day.      No  wonder  that  the  Jews 
eschewed  the  vile  animal;  they  were  people  of  taste.     Pork 
morning,  noon,  and  night,  swimming  in  its  own  grease  !     The 
bishop  who  complained  of  partridges  every  day,  should  have 
been  condemned  to  three  months'  feeding  upon  pork  in  the 
bush  :  and  he  would  have  become  an  anchorite,  to  escape  the 
horrid  sight  of  swine's  flesh  for  ever  spread  before  him     No 
wonder  I  am  thin:    I  have  been  starved-starved  upon  prit. 
ters  and  pork,  and  that  disgusting  specimen  of  unleavened 
bread,  ycle]  .  cakes  in  the  pan. 

"I  had  s  .ch  a  horror  of  the  pork  diet,  that  whenever  I  saw 


TOM  wasoys  emiosation.  49 

Ae  dinner  in  progress  I  fled  to  tl.e  canoe,  in  the  hope  of 

oou^;r7/™r''*'"*  '^'^  ""'^  '■"™<'  «>'  deserting  the 

w;th.goodgrace,hutit:iM\:rL  ^IXreX^^: 

Tf'lT  '""."'*•    '  ™  """''"""y  reminded  byl'M^ 
o  Ae  house,  that  gentlemen  should  not  come  to  tuTlZ^y 

^the.....  that  pe^;i:tusTi!:r::r:  rr;^^ 

get,  and  be  content  to  be  shabby  and  dirtv  Mk.\T^      •  u 
bours,  in  the  *..,_until  that^^d^d   Lf  Ilf 
^^onymous  with  ali  that  waa  hatefu,  and  tlT^.'^'Z 

and  grease.    I  thought  I  sho^  bTbettTr  J         7  '"^.'''°* 

own,  so  I  bought  a  wild  fam  that  1  *  """*  "'^""^ 

7  g«u  »  wim  larm  that  was  ^ecommendp<^  m  m^ 

and  paid  for  it  double  what  it  was  worth     Whpr  T  .  ' 

examine  my  estate  I  fn.^^A  fi,  ^'^  ^  ^^°^®  ^ 

should  havJto  :s  u^rran  tiiro^'n  "^°"  ">  ■"" ' 

acres  cleared  for  cultivation!   I  w2tdT„  f  "''r'  *  ''^ 
quarters.  "'"s  glad  to  return  to  my  old 


00 


sommm  it  m  rim  smm 


''if  ■  ■"' 


Finding  nothing  to  shoot  in  tho  M^oods,  I  determined  to 

amuse  myself  with  li«hing ;  but  Mr could  not  al wavs  lend 

h.8  canoe,  and  there  was  no  other  to  be  had.  To  pass  away 
the  timo,  I  set  about  making  one.  I  bought  an  axe,  and  went 
to  the  forest  to  select  a  tree.  About  a  mile  from  the  lake  I 
found  the  largest  pine  I  ever  saw.  I  did  not  much  like  to  try 
my  maiden  hand  upon  it,  for  it  was  the  first  and  the  last  tree 
I  ever  cut  down.  But  to  it  I  went ;  and  I  blessed  God  that  it 
reached  the  ground  without  killing  me  in  its  way  thither. 
When  I  was  about  it,  I  thought  I  might  as  well  make  the 
canoe  b,g  enough;  but  the  bulk  of  tho  tree  deceived  me  in 
the  length  of  my  vessel,  and  I  forgot  to  measure  tho  one  that 

be  onged  to  Mr .     It  ,.,ok  me  six  weeks  hollowing  it 

out,  and  when  it  was  finished,  it  was  as  long  as  a  sloopof-war, 
and  too  unwieldy  for  all  the  oxon  in  the  township  t.  draw  it 
to  the  water.  After  all  my  labour,  my  combats  with  those 
wood^emons,  one  black-flies,  sand-flies,  and  mosquitoes,  my 
boat  remams  a  useless  monument  of  my  industry.  And 
worse  than  this,  the  fatigue  I  had  endured  while  working  at  it 
k^e  and  early,  brought  on  the  ague;  which  so  disgusted  m^ 
with  the  country  that  I  sold  my  farm  and  all  my  traps  for  an- 
old  song:  purchased  Bruin  to  bear  me  company  on  my  vOy- 
age  home ;  and  the  moment  I  am  able  to  get  rid  of  tL  tor. 
mentmg  fever,  I  am  off." 

Argument  and  remonstrance  were  alike  in  vain,  he  could 
Ws  be'ar"^  ^"""^  ^'"  ^"'P^'*    ^^°^  ^"^  ^«  ^^^«^^*^  ^« 

Brn^^  T  «^«rning  he  conducted  us  to  the  stable  to  s^ 
Brum.  The  young  denizen  of  the  forest  was  tied  to  the 
n^^ger  quietly  masticating  a  cob  of  Indian  corn,  which  he 
held  m  his  paw,  and  looked  half  human  as  he  sa  upon  his 
haunches,  regarding  us  with  a  solemn,  meteholy  air.  Ce 
wa3  an  extraordinary  likeness,  quit,  ludicrous,  between  tZ 


my 


TOM  WILS02PS  EMIGRATION.  M 

and  the  bear.    We  said  nothing,  but  exchanged  glances,    Tom 
read  our  thoughts. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  there  is  a  strong  resemblance  ;  I  saw  it 
when  I  bought  him.  Perhaps  we  are  brothers;"  and  taking 
in  his  hand  the  chain  that  held  the  bear,  he  bestowed  upon 
him  sundry  fraternal  caresses,  wWch  the  ungrateful  Bruin 
returned  with  low  and  savage  growls. 

"  He  can't  flatter.  He's  all  truth  and  sincerity.  A  child 
of  nature,  and  worthy  to  be  my  friend;  the  only  Canadian  I 
ever  mean  to  acknowledge  as  such." 

About  an  hour  after  this,  poor  Tom  was  shaking  with  ague, 
which  in  a  few  days  reduced  him  so  low  that  I  began  to  think 
he  would  never  see  his  native  shores  again.  He  bore  the 
affliction  very  phUosophically,  and  all  his  well  days  he  spent 
with  us.  * 

One  day  my  husband  was  absent,  having  accompanied  Mr. 

S to  inspect  a  farm,  which  he  afterwards  purchased,  and 

I  had  to  get  through  the  long  day  at  the  inn  in  the  best  man- 
ner I  could  The  local  papers  were  soon  exhausted.  At 
that  period  they  possessed  little  or  no  interest  for  me.  I  was 
astonished  and  disgusted  at  the  abusive  manner  in  which 
they  were  written,  the  freedom  of  the  press  being  enjoyed  to 
an  extent  in  this  province  unknox^Ti  in  more  civilized  com- 
munitiea. 

Men,  in  Canada,  may  call  one  another  rogues  and  mis. 
creants,  in  the  most  approved  Billingsgate,  through  the  medium 
of  the  newspapers,  which  are  a  sort  of  safety-valve  to  let  off  all 
the  bad  feelings  and  malignant  passions  floating  through  the 
country,  without  any  dread  of  the  horsewhip.  Hence  it  is 
the  commonest  thing  in  the  world  to  hear  one  editor  abusing, 
like  a  pickpocket,  an  opposition  brother;  calling  him  a  reptih 
—a  crawling  thing—a  calumniator~a  hired  vendor  of  lies  • 
and  hiB  paper  a  smut-machine—a  vile  engine  of  corruption^  as 


iilijiij 


f  i ' 


m  7^ 


52 


ROUOmNO  IT  IN  Tins  BUSH. 


hase  and  degraded  as  the  proprietor,  &c.  Of  this  dcsoription 
was  the  paper  I  now  held  in  my  hand,  which  had  the  impu- 
dence  to  style  itself  the  He/ormer-not  of  morals  or  manners 
certainly,  if  one  might  judge  by  the  vulgar  abuse  that  defiled 
every  page  of  the  precious  document.  I  soon  flung  it  from 
me,  thinking  it  worthy  of  the  fate  of  many  a  better  production 
in  the  olden  times,  that  of  being  burned  by  the  common  hang- 
man ;  but,  happily,  the  office  of  hangman  has  become  obsolete 
in  Canada,  and  the  «  litors  of  these  refmed  journals  may  go  on 
*ibusing  their  betters  with  impunity. 

Books  I  had  none,  and  I  wished  that  Tom  would  make  his 
appearance,  and  amuse  mo  with  his  oddities;  but  he  had 
suffered  so  much  from  the  ague  the  day  before,  that  when  he 
did  enter  the  room  to  lead  me  to  dinner,  he  looked  like  a 
walkuig  corpse— the  dead  among  the  living!  so  dark,  so 
livid,  so  melancholy,  it  was  really  painful  to  look  upon 
him.  ^ 

"  I  hope  the  ladies  who  frequent  the  ordinary  won't  fall  in 
love  with  me,"  said  he,  grinning  at  himself  in  the  miserable 
lookmg-glass  that  formed  the  case  of  the  \  ankee  clock,  and 
was  ostentatiously  displayed  on  a  side  table;  «I  look  quite 

killing  to-day.     What  a  comfort  it  is,  Mrs.  M to  be 

above  all  rivalry."  ' 

In  the  middle  of  dinner,  the  company  was  disturbed  by  the 
entrance  of  a  person  who  had  the  appearance  of  a  gentleman, 
but  who  was  evidently  much  flustered  with  drinking.  He 
thrust  his  chair  in  between  two  gentlemen  who  sat  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  and  in  a  loud  voice  demanded  fish. 

"Fish,  sir?"  said  the  obsequious  waiter,  a  great  favourite 
with  a^  persons  who  frequented  the  hotel ;  «  there  is  no  fish 
sir.     There  was  a  fine  salmon,  sir,  had  you  come  sooner ;' 
but  'tis  all  eaten,  sir." 

"  Then  fetch  me  some." 


I' Jiff 


TOM  mLS02PS  EMIORATION. 


so 


«8 

J^  I'll  seo  what  I  can  do,  sir,"  said  the  obliging  Tim,  hurrying 

^  Tom  Wilson  was  at  the  head  of  the  table,  carving  a  roast 
p.g,  and  was  m  the  act  of  helping  a  lady,  when  the  rude  fellow 
thrust  h,s  fork  into  the  pig,  calling  out  as  he  did  so, 

amonf  T,  'flT  '"""'  "^  ''^"^  ^'^  '  ^ou  have  eaten 
among  you  all  the  fish,  and  now  you  are  g.>ing  to  approp.  :.to 
the  best  parts  of  tho  pig."  i-f    i-     >•» 

Tom  raised  his  eyebrows,  and  stared  at  tlie  stranger  in 
h,s  peeubar  manner,  tl>en  very  coolly  placed  the  whole  of  the 

dog,  but  I  never  before  saw  pig  eating  pig  "  "8 

"Sir!  do  you  mean  >.,  insult  mof  cried  the  stranger,  his 
face  cmusoning  wit'.  :iDgc.,  ''    ' 

"Only  to  tell  y,  u,  ,ir,  th,  ■,  you  arc  no  gentleman.  Here, 
Tim  turning  to  th.  u^itcr,  "go  to  the  stable  and  bring  in 
my  bear ;  we  will  pla„  him  at  the  table  .o  teach  this  man 
how  to  behave  himself  in  the  presence  of  ladies  " 

A  general  uproar  ens'ued;  the  women  left  the  table,  while 
the  entnmce  of  the  bear  threw  the  gentlemen  presei  t  into 
conviilsions  of  laughter.  It  was  too  much  for  the  human 
biped;  he  was  forced  to  leave  the  room,  and  succumb  to  the 

My  husband  concluded  his  purchase  of  the  farm,  and  invi- 
ted  Wilson  to  go  with  us  into  the  eoinitry  and  t.y  if  change 
of  air  would  be  beneficial  to  him ;  for  in  his  then  weak  Bta° 
It  was  impossible  for  him  to  return  to  England.  His  funds 
were  getting  very  low,  and  Tom  thankfully  accepted  the  offer. 
Leaving  Bruin  in  the  charge  of  Tim  (who  delighted  in  the 
oddities  of  the  strange  EngUsh  gentleman),  Tom  made  one 
01  our  party  to , 


!i 


54 


RouQuma  IT  m  the  bush. 


fll;!! 


I'      nl 


I  \''A'\ 


% 


I  !     -t 


m: 


CHAPTEE   V. 

OUR    FIRST  SETTLEMENT,   AND   THE   BORROWING   SYSTEM. 
To  leijd,  or  not  to  lend— is  that  the  question? 

"  rriHOSE  who  go  a-borrowing,  go  a-sorrowing,"  saith  the  old 
adage ;  and  a  wiser  saw  never  came  out  of  the  mouth 
of  experience.     I  have  tested  the  truth  of  this  proverb  since 
my  settlement  in  Canada,  many,  many  times,  to  my  cost; 
and  what  emigrant  has  not?     So  averse  have  I  ever  been  to 
this  practice,  that  I  would  at  all  times  rather  quietly  submit 
to  a  temporary  inconvenience  than  obtain  any  thing  I  wanted 
in  this  manner.     I  verily  believe  that  i  demon  of  mischief 
presides  over  borrowed  goods,  and  takes  a  wicked  pleasure  in 
playing  off  a  thousand  malicious  pranks  upon  you  the  moment 
be  e^ers  your  dwelling.     Plates  and  dishes,  that  had  been 
the  pride  and  ornament  of  their  own  cupboard  for  years,  no 
sooner  enter  upon  foreign  service  than  they  are  broken  ;  wine- 
glasses  and  tumblers,  that  have  been  handled  by  a  hundred 
careless  wenches  in  safety,  scarcely  pass  into  the  hands  of 
your  servants  when  they  are  sure  to  tumble  upon  the  floor, 
and  the  accident  turns  out  a  compound  fracture.     If  you  bor' 
row  a  garment  of  any  kind,  be  sure  that  you  will  tear  -t ;  a 
watch,  that  you  will  break  it ;  a  jewel,  that  you  will  lose  it ; 
a  book,  that  it  will  be  stole.,  from  you.     There  is  no  end  to 
the  trouble  and  vexation  arising  out  of  this  evil  habit.     If  you 
borrow  a  horse,  and  he  has  the  reputation  of  being  the  best 


OUR  FIRST  SETTLEMENT. 


6S 


of 


behaved  animal  in  the  district,  you  no  sooner  become  respon- 
sible for  his  conduct  than  he  loses  his  character.     The  mo- 
ment  that  you  attempt  to  drive  him,  he  shows  that  he  has 
a  will  of  his  own,  by  taking   the  reins  into  his  own  man- 
agement, and  running  away  in  a  contrary  direction  to  the 
road  that  you  wished  him  to  travel.     He  never  gives  over  his 
eccentric  capers  until  he  has  broken  his  own  knees,  and  the 
borrowed  carriage  and  harness.     So  anxious  are  you  about 
his  safety,  that  you  have  not  a  moment  to  bestow  upon  your 
own.     And  why?— the  beast  is  borrowed,  and  you  are  ex- 
pected to  return  him  in  as  good  condition  as  he  came  to  you. 
But  of  all  evils,  to  borrow  money  is  perhaps  the  worst.     If 
of  a  friend,  he  ceases  to  be  one  the  r  oment  you  feel  that 
you  are  bound  to  him  by  the  heavy  clog  of  obligation.     If  of 
a  usurer,  the  interest,  in  this  country,  soon  doubles  the  original 
sum,  and  you  owe  an  increasing  debt,  which  m  time  swallows 
up  all  you  possess. 

When  we  first  came  to  the  colony,  nothing  surprised  me 
more  than  the  extent  to  which  this  pernicious  custom  was 
carried,  both  by  the  native  Canadians,  the  European  settlers, 
and  the  Ipwer  order  of  Americans.  Many  of  the  latter  had 
spied  out  the  goodness  of  the  land,  and  harrowed  various  por- 
tions  of  it,  without  so  much  as  asking  leave  of  the  absentee 
owner.  Unfortunately,  our  new  home  was  surrounded  by 
these  odious  squatters,  whom  we  found  as  ignorant  as  savages, 
without  their  courtesy  and  kindness. 

The  place  we  first  occupied  was  purchased  of  Mr.  C 

a  merchant,  who  took  it  in  payment  of  sundry  large  debt^ 
which  the  owner,  a  New  England  loyalist,  had  been  unable  to 

settle.     Old  Joe  H ,  the  present  occupant,  had  promised 

to  quit  it  with  his  family,  at  the  commencement  of  sleighing ; 
and  as  the  bargain  was  concluded  in  the  month  of  September^ 
and  we  were  anxious  to  plough  for  fall  wheat,  it  was  necessary 


'  :  I  A 


ill, 


III: 


56 


Rommm  it  in  the  bush. 


i*! 


to  be  upon  he  spot.    No  house  was  to  be  found  in  the  im. 
mediate  neighbourhood,  .save  a  small  dilapidated  log  te," 
ment,  on  an  adjoining  farm  (which  was  scarcely  redaimed 
from  the  hush)  that  had  been  so.e  months  without  r  ^or 
The  merchant  assured  us  that  this  could  be  made  very  com 
fortable  until  such  time  as  it  suited  H— ,«  remov'^.Td 

"^nZiz  sr '-'  "^ ''- ' '- "- »— - 

Trusting  to  Mr.  C 's  word,  and  being  strangers  in  the 

-d,  we  never  ,„ok  the  precaution  to  caJne  thisVlilfbl 
mnmcr  residence  before  entering  upon  it,  but  thought  our 
selves  very  fortunate  in  obtainhig  a  tempoWry  home  so  near 

^erenTT^'  *^  ''''^'^  ""'  ^^''^^'-^  ^"^ ^  -"e!  Z 
^eement  was  drawn  up,  and  we  were  told  that  we  could 
take  possession  whenever  it  suited  us 

jae  few  weeks  that  I  had  sojourned  in  the  country  had  by 
no  means  prepossessed  me  in  its  favour,    lie  homiicknl^ 
was  sore  upon  me,  and  all  my  solitary  hour,  were  spen^l 
tears.     My  whole  soul  yielded  itself  up  to  a  strong  ZtZ 
powermg  grief.     One  simple  word  dwelt  for  efer  h,  Z 
heart,  and  swelled  it  to  burstuig-"  Home !"    llLldT 
wakmg  a  thousand  times  a  day,  and  my  last  prayXforV 
«ank  to  sleep  was  still  "  Home !    Oh,  that  I  could  retunif 
only  U>  die  at  home !»    Aud  mghtly  I  did  return;  my  fe  t 
agam  trod  the  daisied  meadows  of  Kngland ;  the  soL  o^f  her 
birds  was  m  my  ears;  I  wept  with  delight  to  find  m 'elf 
once  more  wandering  beneath  the  fragrant  shade  of  he~ 
hedge-rows ;  and  I  awoke  to  weep  in  earnest  when  I  fou^d  ^ 
but  a  dream.    But  this  is  all  digression,  and  has  nolin      o 

^  ^y iTf  rr  ht'"^:,  '^'^ ""'"'  '»•''' "-'  -«>  ™ 

m  my  hts  of  melancholy,  and  take  me  as  I  am 

JVaK  to  take  possession  of  our  new  abode.    During  tha 


OUR  FIRST  SETTLEMENT, 


67 


three  weeks  we  had  sojourned  at ,  I  had  not  seen  a  drop 

of  rain,  and  I  began  to  t\mk  that  the  fine  weather  would  last 
for  ever ;  but  this  eventful  day  arose  in  clouds.  Moodie  had 
hired  a  covered  carriage  to  convey  the  baby,  the  servant- 
maid,  and  myself  to  the  farm,  as  our  driver  prognosticated  a 
wet  day ;  while  he  followed  with  Tom  Wilson  and  the  teams 
that  conveyed  our  luggage. 

ITie  scenery  through  which  we  were  passing  was  so  new  to 
me,  so  unlike  any  thing  that  I  had  ever  beheld  before,  that  in 
spite  of  its  monotonous  character,  it  won  me  from  my  mel- 
ancholy, and  I  began  to  look  about  me  with  considerable  in- 
terest. Not  so  my  English  servant,  who  declared  that  the 
woods  were  frightful  to  look  upon;  that  it  was  a  country 
only  fit  for  wild  beasts ;  that  she  hated  it  with  all  her  heart 
and  soul,  and  would  go  back  as  soon  as  she  was  able. 

About  a  mile  from  the  place  of  our  destination  the  rain  be- 
gan to  fall  in  torrents,  and  the  air,  which  had  been  balmy  as 
a  spring  miming,  turned  as  chilly  as  that  of  a  November 
day.  Hannah  shivered;  the  baby  cried,  and  I  drew  my 
summer  shawl  as  closely  round  as  possible,  to  protect  her 
from  the  sudden  change  in  our  hitherto  delightful  tempera- 
ture.  Just  then,  the  carriage  turned  into  a  narrow,  steep 
path,  overhung  with  lofty  woods,  and  after  labouring  up  it 
with  considerable  difficulty,  and  at  the  risk  of  breaking  our 
necks,  it  brought  us  at  length  to  a  rocky  upland  clearing, 
partially  covered  with  a  second  growth  of  timber,  and  sur- 
rounded on  all  sides  by  the  dark  forest. 

"  I  guess,"  quoth  our  Yankee  driver,  "  that  at  the  bottom 
of  this  'ere  swell,  you'll  find  yourself  to  hum;"  and  plunging 
into  a  short  path  cut  through  the  wood,  he  pointed  to  a  mis- 
erable hut,  at  the  bottom  of  a  deep  descent,  and  cracking  his 
whip,  exclaimed,  "  'Tis  a  smart  location  that.  I  wish  you 
Britishers  may  enjoy  it." 

3* 


■'     :,( 


imp^ 


film 


08 


ROUOEma  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


ifPif 


I  gazed  upon  the  place  in  perfect  dismay,  for  l'  had  never 
seen  such  a  shed  called  a  house  before.  «  You  must  be  mis- 
taken  ;  that  is  not  a  house,  but  a  cattle-shed,  or  pig-sty." 

The  man  turned  his  knowing,  keen  eye  upon  me,  and 
emiled,  half-humorously,  half-maliciously,  as  he  said, 

^'  You  were  raised  m  the  old  country,  I  guess  ;  'you  have 
much  to  learn,  and  more,  perhaps,  tlian  you'll  like  to  know, 
before  the  whiter  is  over." 

1  was  perfectly  bewildered— I  could  only  stare  at  the 
place,  with  my  eyes  swimming  m  tears;  but  as  the  horses 
plunged   down  mto  the   broken  hollow,  my  attention  was 
drawn  from  my  new  residence  to  the  perils  which  endangered 
hfe  and  limb  at  every  step.     The  driver,  however,  was  well 
used  to  such  roads,  and,  steering  us  dexterously  between  the 
black  stumps,  at  length  drove  up,  not  to  the  door,  for  there 
was  none  to  the  house,  but  to  the  open  space  from  which  that 
absent  but  very  necessary  appendage  had  been  removed. 
Three  young  steers  and  two  heifers,  which  the  driver  pro- 
ceeded  to  drive  out,  were  quietly  reposing  upon  the  floor.     A 
i^w  strokes  ^f  his  whip,  and  a  loud  burst  of  gratuitous  curses 
soon  effected  an  ejectment ;  and  I  dismounted,  and  took  pos^ 
session  of  this  untenable  tenement.     Moodie  was  not  yet  in 
sight  with  the  teams.     I  begged  the  man  to  stay  until  he 
arrived,  as  I  felt  terrified  at  being  left  alone  in  this  wild 
strang.vlooking  place.     He  laughed,  as  well  he  might,  at  our 
fears,  and  said  that  he  had  a  long  way  to  go,  and  must  be 
of! ;  then,  cracking  his  whip,  and  nodding  to  the  girl,  who  was 
crymg  aloud,  he  went  his  way,  and  Hannah  and  myself  were 
left  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  dirty  floor. 

^  The  prospect  was  mdeed  dreary.  Without,  pouring  rain  • 
withm,  a  fireless  hearth .;  a  room  with  but  one  wmdow,  and 
that  containing  only  one  whole  pane  of  glass ;  not  an  article 
ot  turmture  to  be  seen,  save  an  old  painted  pine-wood  cradle, 


OUR  FIRST  SETTLEMENT. 


50 


which  had  been  left  there  by  some  freak  of  fortune.  This, 
turned  upon  its  side,  served  us  for  a  seat,  and  there  we  impa- 
tiently awaited  the  arrival  of  Moodie,  Wilson,  and  a  man 
whom  the  former  had  hired  that  morning  to  assist  on  the 
farm.  Where  they  were  all  to  be  stowed  might  have  puz- 
zled a  more  sagacious  brain  than  mine.  It  is  true  there  was 
a  loft,  but  I  could  see  no  way  of  reaching  :'  for  ladder  there 
was  none,  so  we  amused  ourselves,  while  waiting  for  the  com- 
ing of  the  party,  by  abusing  the  place,  the  country,  and  our 
own  dear  selves,  for  our  folly  in  coming  to  it. 

Now,  when  not  only  reconciled  to  Canada,  but  loving  it, 
and  feeling  a  deep  interest  in  its  present  welfare,  and  the  fair 
prospect  of  its  future  greatness,  I  often  look  back  and  laugh 
at  the  feelings  with  which  I  then  regarded  this  noble  country. 

When  things  come  to  the  worst,  they  generally  mend. 
The  males  of  our  party  no  sooner  arrived  than  they  set  about 
making  things  more  comfortable.  James,  our  servant,  pulled 
lip  some  of  the  decayed  stumps,  with  which  tk-^  small  clearing 
that  surrounded  the  shanty  was  thickly  covered,  and  made  a 
fire,  and  Hannah  roused  herself  from  the  stupor  of  despair, 
and  seizod  the  corn-broom  from  the  top  of  the  loaded  wagon, 
and  began  to  sweep  the  house,  raising  such  an  mtolerable 
cloud  of  dust  that  I  was  glad  to  throw  my  cloak  over  my  head, 
and  run  out  of  doors,  to  avoid  suffocation.  Then  commenced 
the  awful  bustle  of  unloading  the  two  heavily-loaded  wagons. 
The  small  space  within  the  house  was  soon  entirely  blocked 
up  with  trunks  and  packages  of  all  descriptions.  There  was 
scarcely  room  to  move,  without  stumbling  over  some  article 
of  household  stuff. 

The  rain  poured  in  at  the  open  door,  beat  in  at  the  shat- 
tered window,  and  dropped  upon  our  heads  from  the  holes  in 
the  roof.  The  wind  blew  keenly  through  a  thousand  aper- 
tures»in  the  log  walls  j  ai'/i  nothing  could  exceed  the  uncom- 


\l%\ 


II'' 


60 


'iiiii; 

III 


II 


f'l    i  i 


■if:  J  :  "  : 


ROUGHING  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


fortaWeness  of  our  situation.     For  a  long  time  the  box  which 
eontamed  a  hammer  and  nails  was  not  to  be  found.     At 
length  Hannah  discoverec!  it,  tied  up  with  some  bedding  which 
^e  wr.  opening  out  in  order  to  dry.     I  fortunately  spied  the 
door  J^'  og  among  some  old  boards  at  the  back  of  the  house 
and  Moodie  immediately  commenced  fitting  it  to  ii^  ,,iac«' 
IJiis  once  accomplished,  v/as  a  great  addition  to  ctu-  coafort' 
We  then  nailed  a  piece  of  white  cloth  entirely  over  fhe  broken 
wmdow^  which,  wiohout  diminishing  the  light,  kept;  out  the 
rain.     James  constructed   a  ladder  out  of  the  old  bits  of 
boards,  and  Tom  Wilson  a..isted  him  in  stowing  the  luggage 
away  m  the  lofl.  ^^^ 

But  what  has  this  picture  of  misery  end  -I'-scoruort  to  do 
mh  borrowing?  Patience,  mj  dear,  good  frioodsj  Twill 
tea  you  all  about  it  l)y  and  by. 

WMle  .y,.  were  alf  busily  employed-even  the  poor  baby, 
^'ho  was  ly.a.g  npu  a  pili.)w  in  the  old  cradle,  trying  the 
strength  of  hei  J-^rgn,  and  not  a  little  irritated  that  no  one 
™  at  lemire  t.  .xgardhcr  laudable  endeavours  to  make  her- 
self  heard---the  door  was  suddenly  pushed  open  and  the 
apparition  of  a  woman  squeezed  itself  into  the  crow.ied  room 
1  left  off  arranging  the  furniture  of  a  bed,  that  had  i^een  just 
put  up  m  a  comer,  to  meet  my  unexpected,  and  at  that  mo- 
menf,  not  very  welcome  guest.  Her  whole  appearance  was 
so^extraordmary  that  I  felt  quite  at  a  loss  how  to  address 

Imagine  a  girl  of  seventeen  or  eighteen  years  of  age,  with ' 
sharp,  knowing-looking  features,  a  forward,  impudent  car- 
nage,  and  a  pert,  flippant  voice,  standing  upon  one  of  the 
trunks,  and  surveying  all  our  proceedings  in  the  most  imper- 
tmeiit  maimer.  The  creature  was  dressed  in  a  ragged,  dirty 
purple  stuff  gown,  cut  very  low  in  the  neck,  with  an  old  red 
cotton  handkerchief  tied  over  her  head  ;    her  uncoij^bed 


OUR  FIRST  SETTLEMENT. 


61 


tangled  locks  falling  over  her  thin,  inquisitive  face,  in  a 
state  of  perfect  nature.  Her  legs  and  feet  were  bare,  and, 
in  her  coarse,  dirty  red  hands^  she  swung  to  and  fro  an  empty- 
glass  decanter. 

"  What  can  she  want?"  I  as^-ed  myself.  "  What  a  strange 
creature !" 

And  there  she  stood,  staring  at  me  in  the  most  unceremo- 
nious manner,  her  keen  black  eyes  glancing  obliquely  to  every 
corner  of  the  room,  which  she  examined  with  critical  exact- 
ness. 

Before  I  could  speak  to  her,  she  commenced  the  conversa- 
tion  by  drawling  through  her  nose, 

"  Well,  I  guess  you  are  fixing  here." 

I  thought  she  had  come  to  offer  her  services ;  and  I  told 
her  that  I  did  not- want  a  girl,  for  I  had  brought  one  out  with 
me. 

"  How  !"  responded  the  creature,  "I  hope  you  don't  take 
me  for  a  help.  I'd  have  you  to  know  that  I'm  as  good  a  lady 
as  yourself.  No ;  I  just  stepped  over  to  see  what  was  going 
on.  I  seed  the  teams  pass  our'n  about  noon,  and  I  says  to 
father,  'Them  strangers  are  cum;  I'll  go  and  look  arter 
them.'  'Yes,'  says  he,  'do— and  take  the  decanter  along. 
Maybe  they'll  want  one  to  pV  their  whiskey  in.'  '  I'm  goin' 
to,'  says  I;  so  I  cum  across  with  it,  an'  here  it  is.  But, 
mind— don't  break  it— 'tis  the  only  one  we  have  to  hum;  and 
father  says  'tis  so  mean  to  drink  out  of  green  glass." 

My  surprise  increased  every  minute.  It  seemed  such  an 
act  of  disinterested  generosity  thus  to  anticipate  wants  we  had 
never  thought  of.     I  was  regularly  taken  in. 

"My  good  girl,"  I  began,  "this  is  reaUy  very  kind— 
but—" 

^  «  Now,  don't  go  to  call  me  'gal'— and  pass  off  your  En- 
glish  airs  on  us.    We  are  genuine  Yankees,  and  think  qut- 


H 


I    f 


II 


1.  I 

i  i 


62 


Kl 


I     M 


H 


■|l| 


ifr,: 


ROUOHINO  IT  IN  THE  BUSff. 


I  am  a 


selves  as  good— yes,  a  great  deal  better  than  you. 
yoimg  lady." 

^^  "  Indeed !»  said  I,  striving  to  repress  my  astonishment. 
1  am  a  stranger  in  the  country,  and  my  acquaintance  with 
Canadian  ladies  and  gentlemen  is  very  small.  I  did  not  mean 
to  offend  you  by  using  the  term  girl ;  I  was  going  to  assure 
you  that  we  had  no  need  of  the  decanter.  We  have  bottles 
of  our  own—and  we  don't  drink  whiskey." 

"How!  Not  drink  whiskey?  Why,  you  don't  say! 
How  Ignorant  you  must  be  !  Maybe  they  have  no  whiskey 
m  tlie  old  country  ?"  *' 

"  Yes,  we  have ;  but  it  Ls  not  like  the  Canadian  whiskey. 
But,  pray  take  the  decanter  home  again— I  am  afraid  that  it 
will  get  broken  in  this  confusion." 

"  No,  no  ;  father  told  me  to  leave  it— and  there  it  is ;"  and 
she  planted  it  resolutely  down  on  the  trunk.  «  You  will  find 
a  use  for  it  till  you  have  unpacked  your  own." 

Seeing  that  she  was  determined  to  leave  the  bottle,  I  said 
no  more  about  it,  but  asked  her  to  teU  me  where  the  well 
was  to  be  found. 

"  The  well !"  she  repeated  after  me,  with  a  sneer.  «  Who 
thinks  of  digging  wells  when  they  can  get  plenty  of  water 
from  the  creek  ?  There  is  a  fine  water-privilege  not  a  stone's- 
throw  from  the  door,"  and,  jumping  off  the  box,  she  disap- 
peared  as  abruptly  as  she  had  entered.  We  all  looked  at 
each  other ;  Tom  Wilson  was  highly  amused,  and  laughed 
until  he  held  his  sides. 

"What  tempted  her  to  bring  this  empty  bottle  Ui  -" 
said  Moodie.  "  It  is  aU  an  excuse  ;  the  visit,  Tom,  was  meant 
lor  you." 

"  You'll  know  more  about  it  in  a  few  days,"  said  James 
looking  up  from  hip  work.     «  T^t  bottle  is  not  brought  here 
for  caught."        ,   ,.  -o  , 


I 


OUR  FIRST  SETTLEMENT, 


63 


I; 


i 


I  could  not  unravel  the  mystery,  and  thought  no  more  about 
it,  until  it  was  again  brought  to  my  recollection  by  the  dam. 
sel  herself. 

Our  united  efforts  had  effected  a  complete  transformation 
in  our  uncouth  dwelling.  Sleeping-berths  had  been  partitioned 
off  for  the  men;  shelves  had  been  put  up  for  the  accommo- 
dation  of  books  and  crockery,  a  carpet  covered  the  floor,  and 

the  chairs  and  tables  we  had  brought  from gave  an  air 

of  comfort  to  the  place,  which,  on  the  first  view  of  it,  I  deemed 
impossible.  My  husband,  Mr.  Wilson,  and  James,  had 
walked  over  to  inspect  the  farm,  and  I  was  sittmg  at  the 
table  at  work,  the  baby  creeping  upon  the  floor,  and  Han- 
nah preparing  dinner.  The  sun  shone  warm  and  bright,  and 
the  open  door  adnaitted  a  current  of  fresh  air,  which  tempered 
the  heat  of  the  fire. 

"  Well,  I  guess  you  look  smart,"  said  the  Yankee  damsel, 
presenting  herself  once  more  before  me.  "  You  old  country 
folks  are  so  stiff,  you  must  have  every  thing  nice,  or  you  fret. 
But,  then,  you  can  easily  do  it ;  you  have  stacks  of  money ; 
and  you  can  fix  every  thing  right  off  with  money." 

"  Pray  take  a  seat,"  and  I  offered  her  a  chair,  "  and  be  kind 
enough  to  tell  me  your  namd.  *!  suppose  you  must  live  in 
the  neighbourhood,  although  I  cannot  perceive  any  dwelling 
near  us." 

"  My  name !    So  you  want  to  know  my  name.    I  am't 

ashamed  of  my  name;    'tis  Emily  S .     I  am  eldest 

daughter  to  the  gentleman  who  owns  this  house." 

"  What  must  the  father  be,"  thought  I,  "  if  he  resembles 
the  young  fe</y,  his  daughter]" 

Imagine  a  young  lady,  dressed  in  ragged  petticoats,  through 
whose  yawning  rents  peeped  forth,  from  time  to  time,  her 
bare  red  knees,  with  uncombed  elf-locks,  and  a  face  ai.':  iiioda 
that  looked  as  if  they  had  been  unwashed  for  a  month— who 


^H^ 


■,«^  1  ■ 


liilf 


64 


ROUGtilNa  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


did  not  know  A  from  B,  and  despised  those  who  did.     While 
these  reflections,  combined  with  a  thousand  ludicrous  images 
were  flitting  tlirough  my  mind,  my  strange  visitor  suddenly 
exclaimed, 

"  Have  you  done  with  that  'ere  decanter  I  brought  across 
yesterday  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes !  I  hav»'  no  occasion  for  it."  I  rose,  took  it  from 
the  shelf,  ar,d  place-'  ',.  r  '.and. 

"I  guess  you,  .voa  t  r.iuvn  it  empty ;  that  would  be  mean, 
father  says.     He  wants  it  filled  with  whiskey." 

The  mystery  was  solved,  the  riddle  made  clear.     I  could 

contam  my  gruA  ity  no  longer,  but  burst  into  a  hearty  fit  of 

laughter,  in  which  I  was  joined  V  .^,  ^.,..     Our  young  lady 

was  mortally  offended ;  she  tossed  the  decanter  from  hand  to 

hand,  and  glared  at  us  with  her  tiger-like  eyes. 

"Yea  think  yourselves  smart!  Why  do  you  laugh  in 
that  wa}  V 

"  Excuse  me— but  you  have  such  an  odd  way  of  borrowing 
tiiat  I  camiot  help  it.  This  bottle,  it  seems,  was  brought  over 
for  your  own  convenience,  not  for  mine.  I  am  sorry  to  disap- 
pomt  you,  but  I  have  no  whiskey." 

"I  guess  si)irits  will  do  as' well,  I  know  there  is  sotp-  m 
that  keg,  for  I  smells  it." 

"  It  contain;'  rum  for  the  workmen." 
"  Better  still.  I  calculate  when  you've  been  here  a  few 
months,  you'll  be  too  knowing  to  give  rum  to  your  helps. 
But  old  country  folks  are  all  fools,  and  that's  the  reason  they 
get  so  easily  sucked  in,  and  be  so  soon  wound  up.  Cum  fill 
the  bottle,  and  don'+  be  stiiigy.  In  this  courtry  we  all  live 
by  borrowing  If  yc  .  want  any  thing,  why  just  send  and  bor- 
row  irom  us." 

Thii^ing  thn    ^his  -.igut  be  the  c   -torn  of  ihe  country  I 
hastened  to  fiU  the  decanter,  hoping  that  I  might  get  a  little 


OUR  FIRST  SETTLEMENT. 


65 


new  milk  for  the  poor  weaning  child  in  return ;  but  when  I 
asked  my  liberal  visitor  if  she  kept  cows,  and  would  lend  me 
a  little  new  milk  for  the  b.  y,  she  burst  out  into  high  disdain. 
"Milk!  Lend  milk?  I  .ess  milk  in  the  fall  is  worth  a 
York  shilling  a  quart.     I  cuiinot  sell  you  a  drop  under." 

This  was  a  wicked  piece  of  extortion,  as  the  same  article  in 
the  towns,  where,  of  course,  it  was  in  greater  request,  only 
brought  threepence  the  quart. 

"  If  you'll  pay  me  for  it,  I'll  bring  you  some  to-morrow. 
But  mind — cash  down." 

*'  And  when  do  you  mean  to  return  the  rum  T  I  said,  with 
some  asperity. 

"  When  father  goes  to  the  creek."    This  was  the  name 

given  by  my  neighbours  to  the  village  of  P ,  distant  about 

four  miles. 

Day  after  day  I  was  tormented  by  this  importunate  crea- 
ture; she  borrowed  of  me  tea,  sugar,  candles,  starch,  bluemg, 
irons,  pots,  bowls, — iii  short,  every  article  in  common  domes- 
tic use, — while  it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  we  could  get 
them  returned.  Articles  of  food,  such  as  tea  and  sugar,  or 
of  cunvenience,  like  candles,  starch,  and  soap,  she  never 
dreamed  of  being  required  at  her  hands.  This  method  of 
living  upon  their  neighbours  is  a  most  convenient  one  to  un- 
principled people,  as  it  does  not  involve  the  penalty  of  stealing ; 
and  they  can  keep  the  goods  without  the  unpleasant  necessity 
of  returning  them,  or  feel  the  moral  obligation  of '  eing  grate- 

fr    for  their  use.     Living  eight  miles  from ,  1  found  these 

cou  ^ant  encroachments  a  heavy  burden  on  our  poor  purse ; 
and  being  ignorant  of  the  country,  and.  residing  in  such  a 
lonely,  out-of-the-waj?  place,  surrounded  by  these  savages,  I 
was  really  afraid  of  denying   heir  requests. 

The  very  day  mu  new  plough  came  h...ae,  ^^\--  father  of 
this  bright  damsel,  who  went  by  the  familiar  ani  unenviable 


m 
A 


m 


-TJi 


Ill 


i 

■  1 

't  1 

1 

Hit! 

••  RouoHma  IT  m  the  bush, 

land  LdTeve"  bet  t  .     "  '"^  """  "'  '"»  -")•    'i'''« 

tt.™  agah,.  "'  "^^  '"■""  P"^^'  """l  *«  -ever  saw 

Crv  of  W  T'"?"*"'  ''■^  '"<»»«  by  >^  »fo.*,a„d 

weary  of  her  importunities,  I  said  I  had  noi...     m,„         . 

-a,  i„  a  rage      ShortI,  after  she  ea.n't:  ^  so^^:  ;!' 
per.     1  was  at  work,  and  niv  work  Kr.v  Z  ^^ 

table  we„  stored  with  thread!  a::^l7air;es:rio:" 

utrrutrntr""^^'^  ^^^  -AandbJrTh: 

»^^•  X'  ,  ^aiiguage,  1  rose  rrom  mv  spat  am^ 

Tbe"^  Ld  •         ■  ""'  .'"  *"  ^""^  """'  -  '  -"-l  -  e l: 
w>  De  insulted  m  my  own  house. 

an'd^ouTt^J™,:;!^  -''  '^^  ^-  "  ->.  .,„.., 
"What  is  fine  slack?"  said  I,  very  pettishly. 
The  stuff  that's  wound  upon  these  'ere  pieces  of  w„„^  » 

I J  ^«|»f  t  give  you  that ;  I  want  it  myself." 

tin  Au       '  "^  •>""'  *"  8'™  '*•    ^  »%  wants  t»  borrow  it 
till  &ther  goes  to  the  creek."  " 


OUR  FIRST  SETTLEMENT. 


67 


*'  I  wish  he  would  make  haste,  then,  as  I  want  a  number 
cf  things  which  you  have  borrowed  of  me,  and  wliich  I  cannot 
longer  do  without." 

She  gave  me  a  knowing  look,  and  carried  off  my  spool  in 
triumph. 

I  happened  to  mention  the  manner  in  which  I  was  con- 
stantly annoyed  by  these  people,  to  a  worthy  English  farmor 
who  resided  near  us ;  and  ho  fell  a-laughlng,  and  told  me  that 
I  did  not  know  the  Canadian  Yankees  as  well  as  he  did,  or  I 
should  not  be  troubled  with  them  long. 

"  The  best  way,"  says  he,  "  to  get  rid  of  them,  is  to  ask 
them  sharply  what  they  want ;  and  if  they  give  you  no  satis- 
factory  answer,  order  them  to  leave  the  house ;  but  I  believe 
I  can  put  you  in  a  better  way  still.  Buy  some  small  article 
of  them,  and  pay  them  a  trifle  over  the  price,  and  tell  them 
to  bring  the  change.  I  will  lay  my  life  upon  it  that  it  will  be 
long  before  they  trouble  you  again." 

I  was  impatient  to  test  the  efficacy  of  his  scheme.  That 
very  afternoon  MI^s  Satan  brought  me  a  plate  of  butter  for 
Bale.  The  price  was  three  and  ninepence  ;  twice  the  sum,  by 
the  by,  that  it  was  worth. 

"  I  have  no  change,"  giving  her  a  dollar ;  «  but  you  can 
brmg  it  me  to-morrow." 

Oh,  blessed  experiment !  for  the  value  of  one  quarter-dol- 
lar I  got  rid  of  this  dishonest  girl  for  ever ;  rather  than  pay 
me,  she  never  entered  the  house  again.  About  a  month  after 
this,  I  was  busy  making  an  apple-pie  in  the  kitchen.  A  cadav- 
erous-looking  woman,  very  long-faced  and  witch-like,  popped 
her  ill-looking  visage  into  the  door,  and  drawled  through  her 
nose, 

"  Do  you  want  to  buy  a  rooster  ?" 

Now,  the  sucking-pigs  with  which  we  had  been  regaled 
ev^ry  (Jay  for  three  weeks  at  the  tavern,  were  called  roasters; 


^ 


p 


I  ^  il 


1/  i  ^  .  I 


m 


nm 


'.'■  t 


^  ROUOHma  IT  IN  THE  BUSH 

"  Is  it  a  good  one  ?" 

"  1  guess  'tis."  • 

"  What  do  you  ask  for  it  ?"  - 

"  Two  Yorkers."  "  • 

r^^r^om  IIT^I  ^''  "<""■"■■  ->■»'  -Jo  you 

turkey?"  "^       ''P'"'  "  '°'"'^'  ^  ^  bigger  „or  a 

co„r;ron  :;';:^°''''''-  "■-  --  ^-de„t,y  so.e  ,„,-. 

"Bring  tiuB  roaster  ud  •  an*!  iV  t  ri      ..   r 

«  fine  game-cock  from  under  hfr  clol  '''"'"°^°''»''  "^^^'-g 

j;tf  r ;l;'  -f^!^;' ;;/  pa.  Ker  down  the 

".ought  she  would  tike  ht  J  "  """""■  '"""<"'-  ' 

proved  the  dearerfowltnlthrfr"'   l"'  *'"'  '""^'«' 

''Doyoukcepback;rd3*ffirer';t'e    "d  ,- 
close  up  to  me.  ^^^  ^"®»  sideJing 

^^  We  make  no  use  of  those  articles." 

She  ;:  sef  iradd:?' "^  ^at's  oncommon." 

"  I  want  to  a^  !      f      '"^  ^  mysterious,  confidential  tone 
want  to  ask  you  how  your  tea^addy  stands  ?"  ' 

it  stands  in  the  cuoboirrl  »  «.o;^  t  \ 

fhls  might  mean.  '"^^^^""^'    '^'^  i,  wondering  what  all 

1  now  began  to  suspect  what  sort  of  a      \ 
stranger  was.  '^  ^^  *  customer  the 

"  Oh,  you  want  to  borrow  som«  ?    t  i. 

uorrowsome?    I  have  none  to  spare." 


i|=: 


OUR  FIRST  SETTLEMENT.  09 

"You  don't  say  so.  Well,  now,  that's  stingy.  I  never 
asked  any  thing  of  you  before.  I  am  poor,  and  you  are  rich  • 
besides,  I'm  troubled  so  with  the  headache,  and  nothing  does 
me  any  good  but  a  cup  of  strong  tea." 

"The  money  I  have  just  given  you  will  buy  a  quarter  of 
a  pound  of  the  best." 

"  I  guess  that  isn't  mine.  Hie  fowl  belonged  to  my  neigh- 
bour.  She's  sick ;  and  I  promised  to  sell  it  for  her  to  buy 
some  physic.  Money  !"  she  added,  in  a  coaxing  tone,  «  Where 
should  I  get  money  ?  Lord  bless  you !  people  in  this  country 
have  no  money ;  and  those  who  come  out  with  piles  of  it 

soon  lose  it.     But  Emily  S told  me  that  you  are  nation 

rich,  and  draw  your  money  fiom  the  old  country.  So  I 
guess  you  can  well  afford  to  lend  a  neighbour  a  spoonful  of 
tea." 

"Neighbour!  Where  do  you  live,  and  what  is  your 
name  ?"  '' 

"  My  name  is  Betty  Fye-old  Betty  Fye ;  I  live  in  the 
log  shanty  over  the  creek,  at  the  back  of  your'n.  The  farm 
belongs  to  my  eldest  son.  I'm  a  widow  with  twelve  sons  • 
and  'tis hard  to  scratch  along."  ' 

"  Do  you  swear  ?" 

"  Swear  !  What  harm  ?  It  eases  one's  mind  when  one's 
vexed.  Every  body  swears  in  this  country.  My  boys  all 
swear  like  Sam  HilJ ;  and  I  used  to  swear  mighty  big  oaths 
till  about  a  month  ago,  when  the  Methody  parson  told  me 
that  if  I  did  not  leave  it  off  I  should  go  to  a  tarnation  bad 
place;  so  I  dropped  some  of  the  worst  of  them." 

"  You  would  do  wisely  to  drop  the  rest ;  women  never 
swear  in  my  country." 

"  Well,  you  don't  say !  I  always  heer'd  they  were  very 
ignorant.     Will  you  lend  me  the  tea  ?" 

The  woman  was  such  an  original  that  I  gave  her  what  she 


'iii 


i-  i*: 


m 


<« 


III 


rm^'mi-^: 


ill 


l! 


^m 


79 


ROUGEINQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSK 


A 


n    \> 


wanted.     As  she  was  going  off,  she  took  up  one  of  the  apples 
I  was  peeling, 

"  I  guess  you  have  a  fine  orchard  ?" 
"  They  say  the  best  in  the  district." 

"We  have  no  orchard  to  hum,  and  I  guess  you'll  want 
sarce." 

"  Sarce !     "What  is  sarce  ?" 

"  Not  know  what  sarce  is  ?  You  are  clever  !  Sarce  ia 
apples  cut  up  and  dried,  to  make  into  pies  in  the  winter.  Now 
do  you  comprehend  ?" 

I  nodded. 

"  Well,  I  was  going  to  say  that  I  have  no  apples,  and  that 
you  have  a  tarnation  big  few  of  them ;  and  if  you'll  give  me 
twenty  bushels  of  your  best  apples,  and  find  me  with  half  a 
pound  of  coars<i  thread  to  string  them  upon,  I  will  make  you 
a  barrel  of  sarce  on  shares_that  is,  give  you  one,  and  keep 
one  for  myself." 

I  had  plenty  of  apples,  and  I  gladly  accepted  her  offer,  and 
Mrs.  Betty  Fye  departed,  elated  with  the  success  of  her  ex. 
pedition.     1  found  to  my  cost,  that,  once  admitted  into  the 
house,  there  was  no  keeping  her  away.     She  borrowed  every 
thmg  that  she  could  think  of,  without  once  dreaming  of  resti- 
tution.  I  tried  all  ways  of  affronting  her,  but  without  success 
Wmter  came,  and  shd  was  still  at  her  old  pranks.  Whenever 
i  saw  her  coming  down  the  lane,  I  used  involuntarily  to  ex- 
claim, "  Betty  Fye  !  Betty  Fye  !   Fye  upon  Betty  Fye  '  The 
Lord  deliver  me  from  Betty  Fye  !"    The  last  time  I  was 
honoured  with  a  visit  from  this  worthy,  she  meant  to  favour 
mo^with  a  very  large  order  upon  my  goods  and  chattels. 
"  Well,  Mrs.  Fye,  what  do  you  want  to^ay  P 
"  So  many  things  that  I  scarce  know  where  to  begin      Ah 
what  a  thing  'tis  to  be  poor !     First,  f  wtot  you  to  lend  me 
ttBn  pounds  of  flour  to  make  some  johnnie-oakes." 


OUR  FinsT  SETTLEMENT.  71 

"I  thought  they  were  made  of  Indian  meal  ?" 
'  ^  «  Yes,  yes,  when  you've  got  the  meal.     I'm  out  of  it,  and 
this  is  a  new  fixing  of  my  own  invention.    Lend  me  the  flour, 
woman,  and  I'll  b-ing  you  one  of  the  cakfs  to  ta-^te." 
This  was  said  very  coaxinglj*. 

n Oh,  pray  don't  trouble  yourself.  What  next?"  I  was 
anxious  to  see  how  far  her  impudence  would  go,  and  deter- 
mined  to  affront  her  if  possible. 

"  I  want  you  to  lend  me  a  gown,  and  a  pair  of  stockings. 
I  have  to  go  to  Oswego  to  see  my  husband's  sister,  and  I'd 
like  to  look  decent." 

"  Mrs.  Fye,  I  never  lend  my  clothes  to  any  one.  If  I  lend 
them  to  yon,  I  should  never  wear  them  again." 

"  So  much  the  better  for  me,"  (with  a  knowing  gi-in).  «  I 
guess  if  you  won't  lend  me  the  gown,  you  will  let  me  have 
some  black  slack  to  quilt  a  stuff  petticoat,  a  quarter  of  a 
pound  of  tea  and  some  sugat;  and  I  will  bring  them  back  a» 
soon  as  I  can." 

"  I  wonder  when  that  will  be.  You  owe  me  so  many 
things  that  it  will  cost  you  more  than  you  imagine  to  repay 
me." 

"  Since  you're  not  going  to  mention  what's  past,  I  can't 
owe  you  much.  But  I  will  let  you  off  the  tea  and  the  sugar, 
if  you  will  lend  me  a  five-dollar  bill."  ITiis  was  too  much 
for  my  patience  longer  to  endure,  and  I  answered  sharply, 

"  Mrs.  Fy«,  it  surprises  me  that  f.nch  proud  people  as  you 
Americans  should  condescend  to  the  meanness  of  borrowing 
from  those  whom  you  affect  to  despise.  Besides;  as  you  never 
repay  us  for  what  you  protend  to  borrow,  I  look  upon  it  as  a 
system  of  robbery.  If  strangers  ^.nfortunat^ly  settle  among 
you,  their  good-nature  is  taxed  to  supply  your  domestic  wants, 
at  a  ruinous  expense,  besides  the  mortification  of  finding  that 
they  have  been  deceived  and  tricked  out  of  their  property.  If 


"»'**-<*ilrf.!»Si*iil 


n 


ROUGmna  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


:t      Hi'i: 


you  would  come  honestly  to  me  and  say, '  I  want  these  things, 
I  am  too  poor  to  buy  them  myself,  and  would  be  obliged  to 
you  to  give  them  to  me,'  I  should  then  acknowledge  you  as  a 
common  beggar,  and  treat  you  accordingly ;  give  or  not  give, 
as  it  suited  my  convenience.  But  in  the  way  in  which  you 
obtain  these  articles  from  me,  you  are  spared  even  a  deljt  of 
gratitude  ;  for  you  well  know  that  the  many  things  which  you 
have  borrowed  from  me  will  be  a  debt  owing  to  the  day  of 
judgment." 

"  S'pose  they  are,"  quoth  Betty,  not  in  the  least  abashed 
at  my  lecture  on  honesty,  "you  know  what  the  Scripture 
saith,  '  It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive.' " 

"  Ay,  there  is  an  answer  to  that  in  the  same  book,  which 
doubtless  you  may  have  heard,"  said  I,  disgusted  with  her 
hypocrisy,  " '  The  wicked  borroweth,  and  payeth  not  agam.' " 
"  Never  shall  I  forget  the  furious  passion  into  which  th  ? 
too  apt  quotation  threw  my  unprincipled  applicant.  She 
lifted  up  her  voice  and  cursed  me,  using  some  of  the  big 
oaths  temporarily  discarded  for  conscience  sake.  And  so  she 
left  me,  and  I  never  looked  upon  her  face  again. 

When  I  removed  to  our  own  house,,  the  history  of  which 
and  its  former  owner,  I  will  give  by  and  by,  we  had  a  bony,' 
red-headed,  ruffianly  American  squatter,  who  had  « left  his 
country  for  his  country's  good,"  for  an  opposite  neighbour. 
I  had  scarcely  time  to  put  my  house  in  order  before  his 
family  commenced  borrowing,  or  stealing  from  me.     It  is 
even  worse  than  stealing,  the  thmgs  procured  from  you  being 
obtained   on  false  pretences— adding   lying   to  theft.      Not 
having  either  an  oven  or  a  cooking-stove,  winch  at  that  pe- 
riod  were  not  m  cheap  or  so  common  as  they  are  now,  1 
had  provided  myself  with  a  large  bake-kettle  as  a  substitute. 
In  this  kettle  we  always   cooked  hot  cakes  for  breakfast, 
preferring  that  to  the  trouble  of  thawing  the  frozen  bread. 


«     i 


OUR  FIRST  SETTLEMENT. 


73 


» j» 


13 


I 


This  man's  wife  was  in  the  habit  of  sending  over  for  my  ket- 
tle whenever  she  wanted  to  bake,  which,  as  she  had  a  large 
family,  happened  nearly  every  day,  and  I  found  her  importu- 
nity a  great  nuisance. 

I  told  the  impudent  lad  so,  who  was  generally  sent  for  it; 
and  asked  him  what  they  did  to  bake  their  bread  before  I 
came. 

"  I  guess  we  had  to  eat  cakes  in  the  pan ;  but  now  we  can 
borrow  this  ketcle  of  your'n,  mother  can  fix  bread." 

I  told  him  that  ho  could  have  the  kettle  this  time ;  but  I 
must  decline  lettmg  his  mother  have  it  in  future,  for  I  wanted 
it  for  the  same  purpose. 

The  next  day  passed  over.  The  night  was  intensely  cold, 
and  I  did  not  rise  so  early  as  usual  in  the  morning.  My  ser- 
vant was  away  at  a  quilting  bee,  and  we  were  still  in  bed, 
when  I  heard  the  latch  of  the  kitchen-door  lifted  up,  and  a 
step  crossed  the  floor.  I  jumped  out  of  bed,  and  began  to 
dress  as  fast  as  I  could,  when  Philander  called  out,  in  his 
well-known  nasal  twang, 

"Missus!  I'm  come  for  the  kettle." 

I  {throuffh  the  partition)  :  "  You  can't  have  it  this  morning. 
We  cannot  get  our  breakfast  without  it." 

Phiiaiider  :  "  Nor  more  can  the  old  woman  to  hum,"  and, 
snatching  up  the  kettle,  which  had  been  left  to  warm  on  the 
hearth,  he  rushed  out  of  the  house,  singing,  at  the  top  of  hia 
voice, 

"  Hurrah  for  the  Yankee  Boys  I" 

When  James  came  home  for  his  breakfast,  I  sent  him 
across  to  demand  the  kettle,  and  the  dame  very  coollv  told 
him  that  when  she  had  done  with  it  I  might  have  it,  but  she 
defied  him  to  take  it  out  of  her  house  mth  her  bread  in  it. 

One  word  more  about  this  lad,  Philander,  before  we  part 


m 


74 


BOUOHING  IT  IN  THE  BUSE. 


11:|      % 


I  itiiii 


with  him.  Without  the  least  intimation  that  his  company 
would  be  agreeable,  or  even  tolerated,  he  favoured  us  with  it 
at  all  hours  of  the  day,  opening  the  door  and  walking  in  and 
out  whenever  he  felt  inclined.  I  had  given  him  many  broad 
lunts  that  his  presence  was  not  required,  but  he  paid  not  the 
slightest  attention  to  what  I  said.  One  morning  he  marched 
m  with  his  hat  on,  and  threw  himself  down  in  the  rocking- 
chair,  just  as  I  was  going  to  dress  my  baby. 

"Philander,  I  want  to  attend  to  the  child;  I  cannot  do  if 
w.th  you  here.  Will  you  oblige  me  by  going  into  the 
Kitchen  r' 

No  answer.      He  seldom  spoke  during  these  visits,  but 
wandered  about  the  room,  turning  over  our  books  and  papers 
looking  at  and  handling  every  thing.    Nay,  I  have  even  known 
hmi  to  take  a  lid  Qff  from  the  pot  on  the  fire,  lo  examme  its 
contents. 

I  repeated  my  request. 

^  Philander:  "Well,  I  guess  I  sk.Vt  hurt  the  yor-ng  'un 
You  can  dress  her."  ^       o 

I :  "  But  not  with  you  here." 

Philander :  "  Why  not  1     We  never  do  any  thing  that  we 
are  ashamed  of." 

I:  "So  it  seems.    But  I  want  to  sweep  the  room-you 
had  better  get  out  of  the  dust." 

I  took  the  broom  from  the  comer,  and  began  to  sweep ; 
still  my  visitor  did  not  stir.  The  dust  rose  in  clouds;  he 
rubbed  his  eyes,  and  moved  a  little  nearer  to  the  door.  Another 
sweep,  and,  to  escape  its  inflictions,  he  mounted  the  threshold 
I  had  km  now  at  a  fair  advantage,  and  fairly  swept  hiu>  out* 
and  Shut  the  door  in  his  face.  ' 

Philander  (Zoo^m^r  through  the  windou)  :  "Well  I  <niesa 
you  did  me  .hen ,  but  'tis  deuced  hard  to  outwit  a  Yankee  " 

Urn  froed  me  from  his  company,  and  he,  t«o,  never  re. 


I 


OUR  FIRST  SETTLEMENT. 


75 


peated  his  visit ;  so  I  found  by  experience,  that  once  smartly 
rebuked,  they  did  not  like  to  try  their  strength  with  you  a 
second  time.    When  a  sufficient  time  had  elapsed  for  the  dry- 
ing of  my  twenty  bushels  of  apples,  I  sent  a  Cornish  lad,  in 
our  employ,  to  Betty  Eye's,  to  inquire  if  they  were  ready, 
and  when  I  should  send  the  cart  for  them.     Dan  returned 
with  a  yellow,  smoke-dried  string  of  pieces,  dangling  from  his 
arm.     Thinking  that  these  were  a  specimen  of  tho  whole,  I 
inquired  when  we  were  to  send  the  barrel  for  the  »'est. 
"  Lord,  ma'am,  this  is  all  there  be." 
"  Impossible !     All  out  of  twenty  bushels  of  apples  1" 
"  Yes,"  said  the  boy,  with  a  grin.    "  The  old  witch  told  me 
that  this  was  all  that  was  left  of  your  share ;  that  when  they 
were  fixed  enough,  she  put  them  under  her  bed  for  safety,  and 
the  mice  and  the  children  had  eaten  them  all  up  but  this  string.'* 
This  ended  my  dealings  with  Betty  Fye. 
I  had  another  incorrigible  borrower  in  the  person  of  old 

Betty  B .     This  Betty  was  unlike  the  rest  of  my  Yankee 

borrowers ;  she  was  handsome  in  her  person,  and  remarkably 
civil,  ard  she  asked  for  the  loan  of  every  thing  in  such  a  frank, 
pleasant  manner,  that  for  some  time  I  hardly  knew  how  to 
refuse  her.  After  I  had  been  a  loser  to  a  considerable  ex- 
tent,  and  declined  lending  her  any  more,  she  refrained  from 
coming  to  the  house  herself,  but  sent  in  her  name  the  most 
beautiful  boy  in  the  world:  a  perfect  cherub,  with  regular 
features,  blue,  sixxlling  eyes,  rosy  cheeks,  and  lovely  curling 
auburn  hair,  who  said,  in  the  softest  tones  imaginable,  that 
mammy  had  sent  him,  with  her  complimenis,  to  the  English 
lady  to  ask  the  loan  of  a  little  sugar  or  tea.  I  could  easily 
have  refused  the  mother,  but  I  could  not  find  it  in  my  heart 
to  say  nay  to  her  sweet  boy. 

Inhere  was  something  original  about  Betty  B ,  and  I 

must  give  a  slight  sketch  of  her. 


n\ 


11 


76 


HOUGHING  IT  IN  TEE  BUSH. 


If    ! 


She  lived  in  a  lone  shanty  in  the  woods,  which  had  been 
erected  by  lumberers  some  years  before,  and  which  was  des- 
titute  of  a  single  acre  of  clearing ;  yet  Betty  had  plenty  of 
potatoes,  without  the  trouble  of  planting,  or  the  expense  of 
buying ;  she  never  kept  a  cow,  yet  she  sold  butter  and  milk ; 
but  she  had  a  fashion,  and  it  proved  a  convenient  one  to  her, 
of  making  pets  of  the  cattle  of  her  neighbours.     If  our  cows 
strayed  from  their  pastures,  they  were  always  found  near 
Betty's  shanty,  for  she  regularly  supplied  them  with  salt, 
which  formed  a  sort  of  bond  of  union  between  them ;  and,  in 
return  for  these  little  attentions,  they  suffered  themselves'  to 
be  milked  before  they  returned  to  their  respective  owners. 
Her  mode  of  obtaining  eggs  and  fowls  was  on  the  same  eco- 
nomical plan,  and  we  all  looked  upon  Betty  as  a  sort  of  free- 
booter,  living  upon  the  property  of  others.   She  had  had  three 
husbands,  and  he  with  whom  she  now  lived  was  not  her  hus- 
band,  although  the  father  of  the  splendid  child  whose  beauty 
so  won  upon  my  woman's  heart.     Her  first  husband  was  still 
living,  (a  thing  by  no  means  uncommon  among  persons  of  her 
class,  in  Canada,)  and  though  they  had  quarrelled  and  parted 
years  ago,  he  occasionally  visited  his  wife  to  see  her  eldest 
daughter,  Betty  the  younger,  who  was  a  child.     She  was  now 
a  fine  girl  of  sixteen,  as  beautiful  as  her  little  brother.    Betty's 
second  husband  had  been  killed  in  one  of  our  fields  by  a  tree 
falling  upon  him  while  ploughing  under  it.     He  was  buried 
upon  the  spot,  part  of  the  blackened  stump  forming  his  monu- 
ment.    In  truth,  Betty's  character  was  none  of  the  best,  and 
many  of  the  respectable  farmers'  wives  regarded  her  with  a 
jealous  eye. 

"  I  am  so  jealous  of  that  nasty  Betty  B ,"  said  the  wife 

of  an  Irish  captain  in  the  army,  and  our  near  neighbour,  to 
me,  one  day  as  we  were  sitting  at  work  together.  She  was  a 
West  Indian,  and  a  negro  by  the  mother's  side,  but  an  unoom- 


, 


OUR  FIRST  SETTLEMENT. 


n 


mon  fine-looking  mulatto,  very  passionate,  and  very  watchful 
over  the  conduct  of  her  husband.  «  Are  you  not  afraid  of 
letting  Captain  Moodie  go  near  her  shanty  ?" 

"  No,  indeed  ;  and  if  I  were  so  foolish  as  to  be  jealous,  it 
would  not  be  of  old  Betty,  but  of  the  beautiful  young  Betty, 
her  daughter."  Perhaps  this  was  rather  mischievous  on  my 
part,  for  the  per  dark  lady  went  off  in  a  frantic  fit  of  jealousy, 
but  this  time  it  was  not  of  old  Betty. 

Another  American  squatter  was  always  sending  over  to 
borrow  a  small-tooth  comb,  which  she  called  a  vermin  de- 
stroyer; and  once  the  same  person  asked  the  loan  of  a  towel, 
as  a  friend  had  come  from  the  States  to  visit  her,  and  the  only 
one  she  had,  had  been  made  into  a  best  "pinny"  for  the 
child  ;  she  likewise  begged  a  sight  in  the  looking-glass,  as  she 
wanted  to  try  on  a  new  cap,  to  see  if  it  were  fixed  to  her 
mind.  This  woman  must  have  been  a  mirror  of  neatness 
when  compared  with  her  dirty  neighbours. 

^  One  night  I  was  roused  up  from  my  bed  for  the  loan  of  a 
pair  of  «  steelyards."  For  what  purpose,  think  you,  gen- 
tle reader  ?  To  weigh  a  new-born  infant.  The  process  was 
performed  by  tying  the  poor  squalling  thmg  up  in  a  small 
shawl,  and  suspending  it  to  one  of  the  hooks.  The  child  was 
a  fine  boy,  and  weighed  ten  pounds,  greatly  to  the  delight  of 
the  Yankee  father.  One  of  the  drollest  instances  of  borrowing 
I  have  ever  heard  of  was  told  me  by  a  friend.  A  maid-ser- 
vant asked  her  mistress  to  go  out  on  a  particular  afternoon, 
as  she  was  going  to  have  a  party  of  her  friends,  and  wanted 
the  loan  of  the  drawing-room.  It  would  be  endless  to  enume- 
rate our  losses  in  this  way;  but,  fortunately  for  us,  the  arrival 
of  an  English  family  in  our  immediate  vicinity  drew  off  the 
attention  of  our  neighbours  in  that  direction,  and  left  us  time 
to  recover  a  little  from  their  persecutions. 

This   SVStem    of  borrnwinor  ia   nnf.  «rV»«1Kr   ,^^ti'^^A    4.^   t-l.^ 


78 


ROUGmm  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


poor  and  ignorant;  it  pervades  every  class  of  society.  If  a 
party  is  given  Jn  any  of  the  small  villages,  a  b<»y  is  sent  round 
from  house  to  house,  to  collect  all  the  i)iates  and  dishes,  knives 
and  forks  tea-spoons  and  candlesticks,  that  are  presentable,  for 
the  use  of  the  compiiri)-. 

During  my  stay  at  the  hotel,  I  took  a  dress  out  of  my 
trunk,  and  hung  it  up  upon  a  peg  in  my  chamber,  in  order  to 
remove  the  creases  it  had  received  from  close  packing.      Re- 
turning from  a  walk  in  the  afternoon,  I  found  a  nolo  upon  my 
dressing-table,  inviting  us  to  spend  the  evening  with  a  clergy- 
man's family  in  the  village;    and  as  it  was  nearly  time  to 
dress,  I  went  to  the  peg  to  take  down  my  gown.     W;  s  it  a 
dream?— the  gown  was  gone.    I  re-opened  the  trunk,  to  see 
if  I  had  replaced  it ;  I  searched  every  comer  of  the  room,  but 
all  in  vain;  no  where  could  I  discover  the  thing  I  sought. 
What  had  become  of  it?      The  question  was  a  delicate  one, 
which  I  did  not  like  to  put  to  the  young  ladies  of  the  truly 
respectable  eslMblishmcnt ;  still,  the  loss  was  great,  and  at 
that  moment  very  inconvenient.     While  1  was  deliberating 

on  what  course  to  pursue.  Miss  S entered  the  room. 

"I  guess  yon  missed  your  dress,"  she  said,  with  a  smile. 
"Do  you  I  lo.s  where  it  is  ?" 

«0h,  sur        ;Miss  L ,  the  dressmaker,  came  in  just 

after  you  leu     Sfie  is  a  very  particular  friend  of  mine,  and  I 
showed  her  your  dress.    She  admired  it  above  all  things,  and 

borrowed  it,  to  get  the  pattern  for  Miss  R 's  wedding 

dress.     She  promised  to  return  it  to-morrow." 

«  Provoking !  I  wanted  it  to-night.  Who  ever  heard  of 
bon-owing  a  person's  dress  without  the  leave  of  the  owner? 
Truly,  this  is  a  free-and-easy  country  !" 

One  very  severe  winter  night,  a  neighbour  borrowed  of 
me  a  blanket—it  was  one  of  my  best— for  the  use  of  a  stran- 
ger who  was  paissing  the  night  at  her  house.    I  could  not  well 


ouB  FIRST  ;<  :ttlem^ent. 


^ 


reftise ;  but  at  that  time,  the  world  pressed  me  sore,  and  I 
could  ill  sfwe  it.  Two  years  elapsed  .ind  I  saw  no  more  of 
my  blanket;  at  length  I  sent  a  note  K  >o  lady,  requesting 
It  to  he  returred.  I  got  a  very  short  mswer  back,  and  the 
blankrt,  alas  !  worn  flireadbare;  the  b.  rower  stating  that  she 
had  sent  the  article,  but  really  she  did  not  know  what  to  do 
without  it,  as  she  wanted  it  to  cover  the  children's  bed.  She 
certainly  forgot  that  I,  too,  had  children,  who  wanted  covering 
as  well  as  her  own.  But  I  have  said  so  much  of  the  ill  results 
of  others'  borrowing,  that  I  will  close  this  sketch  by  relating 
my  own  experience  in  this  way. 

After  removing  to  the  busl.       uiy  misfortunes  befell  us, 
which  deprived  us  of  our  inco  ,id  reduced  us  to  great 

poverty.  ^  In  fact,  we  were  str;  ,rs,  and  the  knowing  ones 
took  us  in  ;  and  for  many  years  we  struggled  with  hard- 
ships which  would  have  broken  stout»«r  hearts  than  ours,  had 
not  our  trust  been  placed  in  the  Almighty,  who  among  all  our 
troubles  never  wholly  deserted  us. 

While  my  husband  was  absent  on  the  frontier  during 
the  rebellion,  my  youngest  boy  fell  very  sick,  and  required 
my  utmost  care,  both  by  night  and  day.  To  attend  to  him 
properiy,  a  candle  l)urning  during  the  night  was  necessary. 
The  last  candle  was  burnt  out ;  I  had  no  money  to  buy  an- 
other,  and  no  fat  from  which  I  could  make  one.  f  hated  bor- 
rowing;  but,  for  the  dear  child's  sake,  I  overcame  my 
scruples,  and  succeeded  in  procuring  a  candle  from  a  good 
neighbour,  but  with  strict  injunctions  (for  it  was  her  last) 
that  I  must  return  it  if  I  did  not  require  it  during  the  night. 

I  went  home  quite  grateful  with  my  prize.  It  was  a  clear 
moonlight  night— the  dear  boy  was  better,  so  I  told  old  Jenny, 
liiy  Irish  servant,  to  go  to  bed,  as  I  would  lie  down  in  my 
clothes  by  the  chUd,  and  if  he  were  worse  I  would  get  up  and 
light  the  candle.    It  happened  that  a  pane  of  glass  was  broken 


m 


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80 


m.l 


1 1   i  r  (    ..»■ 


liOmuiHB  IT  IN  THE  BUSU. 


out  of  the  window-ftame,  and  1  had  supplied  its  place  by  fit 

toy  or  bon-owmg  visit;  and  Tom  had  a  praetice  of  pushing 

LL  T-ff/""^'  »  "'J-  '»  P-uo  his  lawless  d!p  S 
tions  I  had  forgotten  all  this,  and  never  dreaming  that  Tom 
would  appropriate  sueh  light  food,  I  left  the  eandle twS 
the  middle  of  the  table,  just  under  the  window  ^^ 

™,  f'l'^^™^'=«Pi"g  and  waking,  I  heard  the  pane  centlv 
pushed  m     Ue  thought  instantly  struck  me  that  it  was  Tom 

I  sprang  up  from  the  bed,  just  in  time  to  see  him  dart  through 

I  flewTo  I'd      "'  "T^^  "^  '™«  -"^'^  -"^'^  "m 
1  flew  to  the  door,  and  pursued  him  Aa//over  the  field  but  Tu 

to  no  purpose     I  can  see  him  now,  as  I  saw  him  then  slm 

permg  away  for  dear  life,  with  his  prize  traUing  behM  Um" 

gleammg  Ike  a  silver  ..il  in  the  bright  light  o/t^etl    "' 

Ah !  never  did  I  feel  more  acutely  the  truth  of  the  proverb 

S  to^^-H-     °^  '""''''  *"  ""'^  '■«™"A  and  I  had  no 
hght  to  assist  him,  or  even  to  look  into  his  sweet  face  t! 


OLD  SATASAND  TOM  WmoH'^i  XOSE. 


81 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OLD  SATAN  AND  TOM  WIL.Ok's  NOSE. 

«Ano„,kl„d.lrI    Sare  mother  Nature, 
n  ,th  all  Ler  freak,,  M'er  f„™y  ,fc|,  f,.,^. 
if  such  were  mloe,  I'd  try  ,„d  ,„j,  „ 
And  .wear  ihe  god.  had  never  made  il." 

A  FTER  reducing  the  log  cabin  into  some  sort  of  order  w. 
■^  contrived,  with  the  aid  of  a  few  boards,  to  makeabeT 

day  with  the  pitiless  ague.  There  was  no  way  of  admittm» 
.ght  and  air  into  this  domicile,  which  opened  irfto  the  —f 
apartment,  but  through  a  square  hole  cut  in  oneof  thepLnks 
just  wide  enough  to  admit  a  man's  head  through  the  apert„r  ' 
Here  we  made  Tom  a  comfortable  bed  on  thf  floor,  and  did 
he  b  St  we  could  to  nurse  him  through  his  sickness.    Hs 

w!' n  /T- i"""'"""^  ^"'"  ^''^^'^'  ""'J  ^"'■■■ounded  by 
huge  b  ack  whiskers,  and  a  beard  of  a  week's  growth,  looked 
perfectly  unearthly.  He  had  cnly  to  stare  at  the  iabylo 
Irjghten  her  almost  out  of  her  wits. 

^  "  How  fond  that  yoimg  one  is  of  me,"  he  would  say :  «  she 
cries  for  joy  at  the  sight  of  me." 

Among  his  curiosities,  and  he  had  many,  he  held  in  great 
es^em  a  huge  nose,  made  hoUow  to  fit  his  face,  which  his 
father,  a  bemg  a  most  as  eccentric  as  himself,  had  carved  out 
of  boxwood.  When  he  slipped  this  nose  over  his  own  (which 
was  no  beautiful  classical  specimen  of  a  nasal  or^anV  it  m.d« 

4* 


K 


^m 

1 

K 

fl 

■t 

-i1tm»m0».r- 


63 


ROUdHINa  IT  m  TBS  BUSH. 


a  most  perfect  and  hideous  disguise.    Tlie  motlier  who  bore 
h,m  never  w,ld  have  reeogni.ed  her  aceomplished  son 
Numberless  were  the  trieks  he  played  off  with  this  nose. 

Once  he  walked  through  the  streets  of ,  ^Jth  this  pro 

boscs  attached  to  his  face.     "  What  a  nose  !    Look  at  the 
man  with  the  nose!"  cried  all  the  bo,s  in  the  streL     A 
party  of  Insh  emigrants  passed  at  the  moment.    The  men 
w.th  the  courtesy  natural  to  their  nation,  forbore  to  laugh  in 

he  gentleman's  face  ;  but  after  they  had  passed,  Tom  looked 
back,  and  sa«.  ;hem  bent  half  double  in  convulsions  of  mirth 

T  7:^;.*he  party  a  low  bough,  gravely  took  off  Ws  nose 
and  put  It  in  his  pocket.  ' 

The  day  after  this  frolic,  he  had  a  very  severe  fit  of  the 
bfe.    The  hot  fit  had  just  left  him,  and  he  lay  upon  his  bed 

"  Poor  Tom,"  said  I,  <•  he  has  passed  a  honftle  day,  but 
fc  worst  .s  over,  and  I  will  make  him  a  cup  of  coffee."  Whi  e 
preparing  ,t.  Old  Satan  came  in  and  began  to  talk  to  m;hl 
band      He  happened  to  sit  directly  opposite  the  aperture 
^vlnch  gave  light  and  air  to  Tom's  berth     Bus  man  was  di^ 
gustn,gly  ugly.    He  had  lost  one  eye  in  a  quarrel.        hd 
been  gouged  out  m  the  barbarous  conflict,  and  the  side  of  ht 
face  presented  a  succession  of  horrible  scars  inflicted  by  the 
teeth  of  h,s  savage  adversary.   The  nickname  he  had  acquired 
through  he  country  suflieicntly  testified  to  the  rcspectaWh  y 
of  lu    character,  and  dreadful  tales  were  told  of  him  m  tl,e 
ncghbourhood  where  he  was  alike  feared  and  hated 

The  rude  fellow,  with  his  accustomed  insolence,  began 
abusing  the  old  country  folks.  '    ^ 

The  EngliJh  were  great  bullies,  he  said  ;  they  thought  „n 
^  could  fight  but  themselves;  but  the  Y^^ZCt^^l 


OLD  S.iTA]f  AXD  TOir  WILSON'S  NOSZ.  83 

them,  and  would  whip  rhem  ag™.     He  was  not  afear'd  of 
them,  he  never  was  afcar'd  in  his  life 

Scarcely  were  the  words  out  of  his  mouth,  when  a  horrible 
apparmon  presented  itself  to  his  view.  Sbwiy  rising  from 
h.sbed  and  putting  on  the  fictitious  nose,  while  he  dfewh" 

ht  f:e:tr:r  r '"  ^'■""- »"''  ■^'^  ^--^  '^^  *™^ 

thin        u  r^  "P"'""""'  ""'^  """"='i  »  diabolical  cry 

then  3ank  down  upon  his  unseen  couch  as  noiselessly  as  [e 
had  ansen.    The  cry  was  like  nothing  human,  and  ^t  was 

™X;::r-^  ~ '-  ">^  '^^^  °^  -  -id: 

"  Good  God  !  what's  ;hat  ?"  cried  Satan,  falling  back  in  his 
chatr  and  pomting  to  the  vacant  aperture  "  Did  yoult 
It?  d.d  you  see  it?  It  beats  the  universe.  I  nevlrsaw^ 
ghost  or  the  devil  before  !" 

Moodie,  who  had  reecgnized  the  ghost,  and  greatly  en- 
joyed the  fun,  pretended  profound  ignorance  Sd  conl.t 
msinuated  that  Old  Satan  had  lost  his  s^ense  .     iCma H  ^ 

tuT'  sT,;';  tr/  '"^  ^^^-^  aperture,  thrau.;^ 

«Tu       1       nesaiU,      but  the  women  heard  it  too  » 
ghost "  "  '°™''"  '  '^'^'  ""  ^'^''dful  sound,  but  I  sawno 

"Suve  an'  'twas  himsel',"  said  my  lowland  Scotch  girl 
who  now  perceived  the  joke;  "he  was  a  seeken'  to  gie^ 
puir  bodies  a  wee  fricht."  * 

said"r°"v"^,''7l^°"  ^^^  '"''J''*''  *°  *^=<=  '°rt  <"■  fits?" 

a  1  f  °v  u  ""■■  "'^^  '"  *^  ''«""•  "'"'«'  them. 
Sud,_  fauces,  rf  they  are  not  attended  to,  often  end  in  madi 

widlf'^'"  ^""^  '"^'^nanlly)  "Ig>,css  I'm  not  mad,  but  as 
w,de  awake  as  you  are.  Did  I  net  see  it  with  my  o™  eyes? 
And  then  the  noise_I  could  not  nuAe  such  a  tarition  ouCy 


'■mmmitmtm' 


84 


Bouomm  IT  IN  ms  bush. 


to  ,»ve  my  l,fe  But  bo  it  man  or  devil,  I  don't  care,  I'm  not 
ttXf  \  T  "^  "''  ™"-^  ^''^"''^'^y  »'  *e  hole  Aga L 
wUdly  then-  hollow  sockefa,  and  a  yell  more  appalling  than 
ttefonnerr»g  through  the  room.    He  man'^rang  from 

mstent  w.th  hj,  one  eyeball  starting  from  hia  head  and 
glanng  upon  the  apeotre;  hia  cheeks  deadly  pale  •  'he  cdd 
persp,rat.on  atreaming  from  hia  face ;  hia  lipa  reared  1 
his  teeth  chattering  in  hia  head.  aiasevered,  and 

across  the  field  at  full  sneed      TJ,.    f  ^'  ^  ^^^ 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha !"  chuckled  poor  Tom  sintm,.  Ar.  i. 

on  his  hp^      «  n  *!,  *  T  I.  ^  '  ^^"^^"g  ^own  exhausted 

on  his  bed  O  that  I  had  strength  to  follow  up  my  advan 
tage,  I  would  lead  Old  Satan  such  a  chase  that  he  shoL  t^nk 
his  namesake  was  in  truth  behind  him'" 

distance  from formed  n,t„°'  .'    ^""^  '°  "^ 

Hively  refused  to  tou^f  rLTreXX'^lkefneirr 
bours^^    appropriately  te^ed  the  uieaven'ed  Ta^e  Zt 

"  Do,  my  dear  Mrs.  Hoodie,  like  a  good  Oiatia„  ^  you 


v^ 


Mr  rmsT  Canadian  loaf.  gs 

arc,  give  me  a  morsel  of  the  baby's  biscuit,  and  try  and  make 

eatable     sa.d  W.,son  to  me,  in  most  imploring  accents. 

Most  w.mng,y.     But  I  have  no  yeast ;  and  I  never  baked 
m  one  of  those  strange  kettles  in  my  life." 

"I'll  go  to  old  Joe's  wife  and  borrow  some,"  said  he- 

thf  irb  r^''  ''°""™^  "^  ^°"-"    ^™y  ho  went  across 
the  Held,  but  soon  returned.    I  looked  into  his  jug-it  «» 

milterptSgsV"^'  '"'  *^^  '""'  -  "--  -''«  the'' 

couZm JmtTe  "t^'     ""'  ^  ---  '^^^^^  ^  »« 

"You  arc  to  take  an  old  tin  pan,"  said  he,  sitting  down  on 
the  stool,  and  poking  the  fire  with  a  stick.  *=      ™  »" 

"  Must  it  be  an  old  one  V  said  I,  laughing. 

"  Of  course ;  they  said  so." 

"  And  what  am  I  to  put  into  it  1" 

"  Patience  ;  let  me  begin  at  the  beginning.    Some  flour 
and  some  m  Ik-but,  by  George !  I've  forgot  all  abolit 
was  wonderu>g  as  I  eame  across  the  field  why  they  called  the 
yeast  m(-a--eraptyinffs  and  tlrnt  nnt  .),„         \  tney  called  the 
r,„f  „<•        u     J      •?  P  '  '"^  ™y  '0  ™ake  it  quite 

out  of  my  head     But  never  mind;  it  is  only  ten  o'clock  by 
my  watch.     I  have  nothing  to  do ;  I  will  go  again  "  ^ 

He  went.     Would  I  had  been  there  to  hear  the  colloquy 
between  htm  and  Mrs.  Joe ;  he  described  it  something  to  Z 

Mrs.  Jc^ :  "  Well,  stranger,  what  do  you  want  now  V 

JZ:  brea^™  ""''"''''  *"'  ^^^  ^°"  '"'^  ^  --  ^ 
Mrs.  Joe :  "I  never  told  you  how  to  make  bread.    I 
I  are  a  fool.    People  have  to  raise  bread  before  they 


guess 


i;ii...iyfcM. 


''wfiif<'ri^iiiiijii:_^ 


86 


nouaiuNa  it  in  the  bush. 


can  bake  it     Pray  who  sent  you  to  make  game  of  me  ?    I 
guess  somebody  as  wise  as  yourself." 

Tom  :  «  The  lady  at  whose  house  I  am  stayinff." 

here      SoTh^  If''    '  ""  ''"  ^^"  ^^^*  "^  ^^^  ^  ^''^- 
here     So  the  old  woman  who  lives  in  the  old  log  shanty  in 

he  hollow  don't  know  how  to  make  bread.     A  dever  wife 

Her  brother?"     {Another   sKaU:)     "Her  son?     Do  you 
hear  ?  or  are  you  deaf?"     {Going  quite  dose  up  to  him.) 

or  ..hat  I  am  is  nothing  to  you.  Will  you  oblige  me  by 
telhng  me  how  to  make  the  milUmptyings ;  and  this  time  I'U 
put  It  down  m  my  pocket-book." 

I  tow'vof ''  ^f'^  "  '''''^  '"'''^ ''  "  ^^^^^P^ngs  f    Milk, 

rei^:Tt^  ^^  ^""^"-  ^^^  ^^"  ^-^  ^  '^  ^^"  ^-  - 

Tom  {bowing  very  low)  :  «  Thank  you  for  your  civilitu.     h 
the  old  woman  who  lives  in  the  little  shanty  near  the  Lie 
trees  mor^  obliging?"  ^  tne  appie- 

Mrs.  Joe  :  «  That's  my  husband's  mother.  You  may  try 
I  guess  she  11  give  you  an  answer."  (^.,^V,  slamming  the  door 
m  his  face.) 

"  And  what  did  you  do  then  ?"  said  I. 

.;  ^^'  ^^^t  °^  course.  The  door  was  open,  and  I  recon- 
noitred  the  premises  before  I  ventured  in.  I  liked  the  phiz  of 
the  old  woman  a  deal  better  than  that  of  her  daughter-in-law 
although  It  was  cunning  and  inquisitive,  and  as  sharp  as  a 
needle.  She  was  busy  shelling  cobs  of  Indian  com  into  a 
barrel.  I  rapped  at  the  door.  She  told  me  to  come  in,  and 
m  I  stepped.  She  asked  me  if  I  wanted  her.  I  told  her  mv 
errand,  at  which  she  laughed  heartily. 

Old  woman :  «  You  are  from,  the  'old  country,  I  guess,  or 


Mr  FIRST  CANADIAN  LOAF.  ^7 

you  would  know  how  to  make  m//yt-emptyings.  Now,  I 
always  prefer  hran-eynphjings.  They  make  the  best  bread. 
The  milk,  I  opine,  gives  it  a  sourish  taste,  and  the  bran  is  the 
least  trouble." 

Tom  :  «  Then  let  us  have  the  bran,  by  all  means.     How  do 
you  make  it  ?" 

Old  woman :  « I  put  a  double  handful  of  bran  into  a  small 
pot,  or  kettle,  but  a  jug  will  do,  and  a  tea-spoonful  of  salt  •  but 
mnid  you  don't  kill  it  with  sak,  for  if  you  do,  it  won't  rise.  I 
then  add  as  much  warm  water,  at  blood-heat,  as  will  mix  it 
into  a  stiff  batter.  I  then  put  the  jug  into  a  pan  of  warm 
water,  and  set  it  on  the  hearth  near  the  fire,  and  keep  it  at  the 
same  heat  until  it  rises,  which  it  generally  will  do,  if  you 
attend  to  it,  in  two  or  three  hours'  time.  When  the  bran 
cracks  at  the  top,  and  you  see  white  bubbles  rising  through  it, 
you  may  strain  it  into  your  flour,  and  lay  your  bread!  It 
makes  good  bread." 

Tom  :  "My  good  woman,  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you. 
We  have  no  bran  ;  can  you  give  me  a  small  quantity  ?" 

Old  woman :  « I  never  give  any  thing.  You  Englishers, 
who  come  out  vnih  stacks  of  money,  can  afford  to  buy." 

Tom  :  "  Sell  me  a  small  quantity." 

Old  woman:  "I  guess  I  will."  {JEdging  qtcite  close,  and 
fixing  her  sharp  eyes  on  him.)  «  You  must  be  very  rich  to 
buy  bran." 

Tom  {qnizzicalhj)  :  «  Oh,  very  rich." 

Old  woman  :  *'  How  do  you  get  your  money  f 

Tom  {sarcastically)  :  «I  don't  steal  it." 

Old  woman :  «  Pr'aps  not.  I  guess  you'll  soon  let  others 
do  that  for  you  if  you  don't  take  care.  Are  the  people  you 
live  with  related  to  you  ?" 

Tom  {hardly  able  to  keep  Ms  gravity) :  «  On  Eve's  side. 
They  are  my  friends." 


* 


I 


8S 


Old 


ROUOHINO  IT  L\  THE  BUSH. 
(m  mrpruc) :  "  And  rln  f !,.„ 


woman 
nothing,  or  do  you  work  for  your  mVatT"  "*^'  '^^^^  ''"  '^^ 
lorn    (/m^a/,W,7/y) :    « Js  that   bran   readv^"     (Ti       ;, 
woman  noes  to  tho  hl»    „  ^  reaay .       {^The  old 

u  Mru  *'  ""^  measures  out  a  mmr-t  \^  z       x 

"  What  iim  I  to  pay  you?"  ^     '^^  ''•^  *''«'^-) 

Old  woman  :  "  A  York  shilling." 
Tom  (z^iV/iVe^  to  test  her  honestiy)-  «T«  ih 
ence  between  a  York  shillln.       , '^^  \  ./'  ^^^^^  any  differ- 
reney?"  '^"^"^  '""^  ^  «^"""^g  of  British  cur- 

Old  woman  (evasively):  «I  rruess  nof      To  .i, 

for  your  pound  of  bran.  ..^„  ^'lere  is  threepence 

J        ^      "^ , '  ^^a"  J  you  are  enormously  paid  " 
Old  woman  (calllnr;  after  him)  •  »  Rnf  f7        • 

allow  nothing  for  the  recipe  .»    ^  *  '^'  ''"^^ ^ '  ^°  ^^^ 

''I'd  so  »  ".f.^"'''  "  *'^  P^^^^  ^^^^^  bran." 

the  fire.  J  have  often  1^2  T  ,  .  '"■'  ''>'  ""^  ^''J'  "f 
boils;  and  t^Je^XlJlTH:^:l  »  y^^^  P^t  never 
Tom  sat  for  hours  re.ardW I"  "*./"*'''"''  '"  'l"^  ™^«- 
maid  inspected  it  f  1  to!     7  "^'  """^  ''^^^^  *e 

were  suffered  to  ehDse^r/  '  '"''  "=""•">  *»  '"""tes 

and  the ^tatet/ire:  ;r,7rt'r;'-^r''''^'^'-' 

away,  and  night  drew  on  and  vet  I  'I  '^'^^'^  ^'"^'^ 
signs  of  vitalfty.  Tom  ^Xd  f  ^  ?"=''^''  P<"  8^™  no 
tea  with  the  old  fare        ^  '"^  "'""'  ''«  ^"^  ^°^  to 

"  """"  """■"  --^  ""'  "  -  ^M  get  some  good  bread  » 


Ur  FIRST  OANADUN  LOAF.  89 

the  ,„„„,i„g .  it  „„3t  g„j  ^p  ^^  j,^^  ^.__^    J  ^.^^ 

Te  tT  ''"""  '"'''"'  '  ™""'  'O"^*  "--  '-"-  -"et  • 
n.e  tea-thmgs  wero  removed.     Tom  took  up  his  flute  and 

oommenecd  a  seriosof  the  wildest  voluntary  airs  ,h  t 'ev„ 

travest  of  mankuid  „„ght  have  cut  cccentrie  eapers      Wa 
ere  all  convulsed  with  laughter.    In  the  midstTf  ;««  If 

Sfc    r™T"'''?'r  ^""^'--■^  hopped  like  a  kangaroo 
Ovh  ch  feat  ho  performed  by  raising  himself  upon  tip-toes  then 
fl.ngmg  h,mself  forward  with  a  stooping  jerk)  toCrrl  ,r 
hearth   and  squinting  down  into  the'colt    ot       tl  mo's 
qu.z»oaI  mam>cr,  exclaimed,  "Miserable  chaff!    If       t  doe 
not  make  you  rise,  nothing  will." 

I  left  the  bran  all  night  bv  the  firi.     -p.,-!    •    .1 
md  the  satisfaction  JU^,  ^IZ:^^;:ZZ 

emptyt";:tur"™'i:*?"^'''  ''  ''  '  ^"-""^^  '"^ 

f:tr;:b«Hd~-^^^^^ 

!,,•„„  •    .V  '"*'  understand  the  method  of  ha 

kmg  m  these  ovens;  or  that  my  bread  ,ho„I,7 1 

in  the  kettle  for  half-an-hour  untTit^  ^  '™"''""'* 

time,  before  I  applied  the  X'  Tt  '.'  ''^  "^^"  «>»  ^^-^nd 

should  be iight!^itn:toS;e;i:r:  "•'''' r  r-' 

?™oranrof  111  ZT7  '""^""'"^'^  *°  '^""™  *^  I'^^-'J- 
a!d  h!!    A     ,         '    P"'  "^  """''™  I™''  i«to  a  cold  kettle 

St  St^sa  itr: --  ™^  '^-^ 

the  disagreeable  odour  of  bu^.trXTCr  ™' 


'If 


90 


ROUaWNO  IT  IN  THE  BUSH, 


"What  i«  this  horrM  smell ?"  cried  Tom,  issumg from  his 

Ala, !  for  my  maiden  loaf!    With  a  rueful  face  I  nlaccd  it 
on  1  e  breakfast-tablo.     "  ,  hoped  to  have  giveny  ,fl     ea 
>-.« '^ar  you  wi„  fiud  it  worse  than  the  cakes  in  L  p."  ' 

knife  ItotS  „;  '"r/f  "'»'-"  »id  Tom,  aa  he  stuck  his 

bread/  '  ''"'"'  ^™  '"'"«'  '"'•«-  ^--'^  ">- 

We  were  all  sadly  disappointed.    IT.e  others  submitted  to 
my  fa  lure  good-naturedly,  and  made  it  the  snhjeet  of  m„?,v 
droll,  but  not  unkindly,  witticisms.    For  myself,  I  !««"""« 
borne  the  severest  h.fiietion  from  the  pen  of  th    mos    f,li 
dable  ermc  w,th  more  tbrtitude  than  I  bore  the  cutting  up  " 

rode  ,nto  the  town;  and  when  they  returned  at  ni.ht  broM.t 
several  long  letter  for  me.    Ah !  Le  first  kind  1^  tejfro 
home  t    Never  shall  I  forget  the  rapture  with  which   ^d 
them-the  eager,  trembling  haste  with  which  I  t„rf  I 
open  while  the  blinding  tears  which  ml^^  'T^^^Z 

^Lr  r:e "'""'"  t  '-^'^'^  ^  --^  wh-rth:;  r 

tamed.    Sateen  years  have  slowly  passed  away_it  appears 
half  a  century    but  never;  never  can  home  letters  give  me  the 
intense  joy  those  letters  did.    After  seven  yea  Jlxire     h! 
hope  of  return  grows  feeble,  the  means  are'st  H  leT  t    ' 
power,  and  our  friends  give  up  all  hope  of  our  r  turn    thel 

aie  less  v,v,d;  the  heart  has  formed  new  ties,  and  tie  poor 


foir  trial  of  tho  cou  "trv     A  ""^  "'"■"'«•  ""''  '»"''«  » 

"Good-bye!"  quoth  he,  shaking  me  by  the  hn„H  „=  Y  i 
meant  to  sever  it  from  the  wrist     "  WP  ''" 

will  be  in  New  South  wT      ,  ,'  u  '"  ""*'  "'<=  '»<"='  " 

know  how  to  11"  b„r  rc'  a':  17  "■"'  r-"  ^■"  ■  -" 

«on's  emigration  to  Canada      u'  ^.^       °"'^'"^  ^"'"  ^^"■ 
pounds,  B^tish  eul^'^t  remainldl !, ""'  '"-"  """''"' 


I»# 


■«•■*'■ 


^•»»» 


"^»m*mtmma.'. 


98 


JlOirOBJSa  IT  IN  Tins  Bff/SJI. 


CHAPTER   Vir. 


VHCLE    JOE    AND    1118    FAMIir. 
Up,  lik»  Ih,  phosphoric  ,|„„'  """""  •  """  '"»  ~"l''"i™.  >.r  .he 

mCLE  JOE!   I  see  him  now  before  me,  with  his  jolly  red 
^  faee,  twmkl.ng  blaek  eyes,  and  rubicund  nose.     No  thTn 
w«eed  Yankee  was  he,  looking  as  if  he  had  lived  upT,; 
cu  e  ,aeas  and  speeulations  all  his  life ;  yet  Yankee  he  was  W 
birth,  ay,  and  „,  mind  too;  for  a  more  knowing  fellow  at  a 

aXrr  T"'  *°  ""'^^  '»  "^"^  '^"''»h  institit  on 
B  r^hrh'^'f  """^  """""^  the  despised  Britishers. 
But,  then,  he  had  such  a  good-natured,  fat  face,  such  a  mis- 
chievous, mirth-loving  smile,  and  such  a  merry  roguihTv 
press,on  i„  those  small,  jet-black,  glittering  eyes,1h  t  y™ 
offered  yourself  to  be  taken  in  by  him,  wiLut  offer!  «,o 
least  resistance  to  his  impositions.  ^ 

Uncle  Joe's  father  had  been  a  New  England  loyalist  and 
...  doubtful  attachment  to  the  British  gov!rmr,em  h      b    n 

repaid  by  a  grant  of  land  in  the  township  of  H He  was 

the  first  settler  in  that  township,  and  chose  his  location  ila 
re.note  spot  fo,  ^he  sake  of  a  beautiful  natural  spSg"    eh 


mCLE  JOE  AND  HIS  FAMILY.  93 

"  Father  might  have  had  the  pick  of  the  townshin  »  ..  .^. 

It.  ^i:  'r  r "'  ~°"  ^-^---^  ^irV^ 

water  to  the  site  of  a  town       Wnii    t  •  ,  '^ 

hor.es,  I  th,„k  what  a  tarnation  fool  the  oH  one  was  To  II 
aw„  a  d,a„ee  of  n,a,.„g  h.  fortune,  foZXX^^ 
Kour  father  was  a  temperance  man '" 

bottle  m  h«  day.     Ho  drank  „p  a  good  farm  in  the  United 
States,  and  then  he  thonght  he  could  not  do  better  than  t™ 
loyal,  and  get  one  here  for  nothing.    Jle  did  not  care  »      T 
-t  he,  for  the  King  of  England.  I  thougthims      as  gld' 
any  how^  But  he  (bund  that  ho  would  have  to  work  ha  d'he 'e 
^cratch  along,  and  he  was  mightily  plagued  with  the  rhel 
mat, es,  a„d  some  old  woman  told  him  that  good  sprinla  eJ 
was  the  b.st  cure  for  that ;  so  he  chose  this  poor,  --^hf  ZZ 
land  on  account  of  the  spring,  and  took  to  har^  worked 
drinking  cold  water  in  his  old  age." 

"  How  did  the  change  agreo  with  him  '" 
"I  guess  better  than  could  have  been  expected.   Ho  phnt. 
ed  that  fine  orchard,  and  cleared  his  hund  ed  acres  and  wt 
got^along  slick  enough  as  long  as  the  old  fellow  lived  " 

n,^  1  ^hat  happened  after  his  death,  that  obliged  you  to 
part  with  your  land  ?"  "      •' 

dors.        I  had  not  my  father's  way  of  scraping  money  to. 

li  r  r'"-  T"  '""'  ^"'™^  ^P-.>atio' s,''but  thTy  ^ 
fa.led.  I  man-ied  young,  and  got  a  large  family;  and  the 
women  critters  ran  up  heavy  bills  at  the  stores,  and  the  crops 

wiranTMr^-^irr*'^'"^  ""^.  '-''^  -^-° 

fho     ^1  ^ P      "'  ^"^  execution,  and  seized  upon 


\im 


-    —    J  v^tii     mo 

iiim  ;  and  you  got  all  what  my  fathe 


sr  toiled  fnr  A, 


I 


94 


ROUQEINQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


the  last  twenty  years  of  liis  life  for  less  than  half  the  cash  he 
laid  out  upon  clearing  it." 

"And  had  the  whiskey  nothing  to  do  with  tliis  change^" 
said  I,  looking  him  in  the  face  suspiciously. 

•  "  Not  a  bit !  When  a  man  gets  into  difficulties,  it  is  the 
only  thing  to  keep  him  from  sinking  outright.  When  your 
husband  has  had  as  many  troubles  as  I  have  had,  he  will  know 
how  to  value  the  whiskey  bottle." 

This  conversation  was  interrupted  by  a  queer-looking  ur- 
chm  of  five  years  old,  dressed  in  a  long-tailed  coat  and  trow- 
sers,  popping  his  black  shock  head  in  at  the  door,  and  calling 

"  Uncle  Joe  !— You're  wanted  to  hum." 

"  Is  that  your  nephew  ?" 
^  "No!  I  guess  'tis  my  woman's  eldest  son,"  said  Uncle  Joe 
rising,  "  but  they  call  me  Uncle  Joe.  'Tis  a  spry  chap  thatJ 
as  cunning  as  a  fox.  I  tell  you  what  it  is-he  will  make  a 
smart  man.  Go  home,  Ammon,  and  tell  your  ma  that  I  am 
coming.' 

"I  won't "  said  the  boy;  "  you  may  go  hum  and  tell  her 
yourself,  bhe  has  wanted  wood  cut  this  hour,  and  vou'Il 
catch  it !"  ^ 

Away  ran  the  dutiful  son,  but  not  before  he  had  applied 
his  forefinger  significantly  to  the  side  of  his  nose,  and,  with  a 
knowing  wink,  pointed  in  the  direction  of  home. 

Uncle  Joe  obeyed  the  signal,  dryly  remarking  that  he  could 
not  leave  the  barn  door  without  the  old  hen  clucking  him  back 

At  this  period  we  were  still  living  in  Old  Sataai's  log  house* 
and  anxiously  looking  out  for  the  first  snow  to  put  us  in  posl 
session  of  the  good,  substantial  log  dwelling  occupied  by  Un- 
cle Joe  and  his  family,  which  consisted  of  a  brown  brood  of 
seven  girls,  and  the  highly-prized  boy  who  rejoiced  m  the  ex- 
traordinary  name  of  Ammon. 


1 1 


mcLB  JOE  Am  HIS  FAMILY.  gjj 

Strange  names  are  to  be  found  in  this  free  country.    What 
th>nk  you,  gentle  reader,  of  Sohmo.    .%,  Reynard  Fo.,  and 
mramDoohule;  all  veritable  na.  >.   and  belonging  to  sub- 
stent.al  yeomen  ?    After  Ammon  and  Ichabod,  I  should  not 
be  at  all  surprised  to  meet  witJ,  Judas  Iscariot,  Pilate,  and 
Herod      And  then  the  female  appellations!     But  the  su'bS 
IS  a  dehcate  one,  and  I  will  forbear  to  toueh  upon  it.     I  have 
enjoyed  many  a  hearty  laugh  over  the  strange  affectationa 
wh,ch  people  designate  here  very  handsome  name,.     I  prefer 
the  old  homely  Jewish  names,  sueh  as  that  whieh  it  pfeased 
my  godfather  and  godmothers  to  bestow  upon  me,  to  one  "f 
those  h.gh-sounding  Christianities,  the  Minervas,  Cinderell^ 

can  ed  to  a  marvellous  extent.  It  is  only  yesterday  that  in 
passing  t  rough  one  busy  village,  I  stopped'in  astonish!;  : 
before  a  tombstone  headed  thus :_"  Sacred  to  the  memotr 
of  &!ence  Sharman,  the  beloved  wife  of  Asa  Sharman  "  wi 
the  woman  deaf  and  dumb,  or  did  her  friends  hope  by  be- 
stowrag  upon  her  such  an  impossible  name  to  still  the  voice 
ot  Mature,  and  check,  by  an  admonitory  appellative  the 
active  spirit  that  lives  in  the  tongue  of  womam'  -^uly '  ^1 
Sharman  if  thy  wife  was  silent  by  nature  as  well  as  by  name 
thou  wert  a  fortunate  man !  ' 

But  to  return  to  Uncle  Joe.     He  made  many  fair  prom- 

he  had  sold  his  crops  and  could  remove  his  family  We 
could  see  no  interest  which  could  be  served  by  his  deceiving 
us,  and  therefore  we  believed  him,  striving  to  make  ourselves 
^  comfortabk  as  we  could  in  the  mean  time  in  our  present 
^  retched  abode.  But  matters  are  never  so  bad  but  that  they 
may  be  worse.  One  day  when  we  were  at  dinner,  a  waJ, 
drove  up  to  the  door,  and  Mr.  _  alighted,  accompanied  by 
a  hne-looking,  middle^ed  man,  who  proved  to  be  Captain 


I 


m 


ROmmNG  IT  IN  TJTE  BUSK 


S ,  who  had  just  arrived  from  Demerara  with  his  wife 

and  family.    Mr. ,  who  had  purchased  the  farm  of  Old  Sa- 

tan,  had  brought  Captain  S over  to  inspect  the  land,  as 

he  wished  to  buy  a  farm,  and  settle  in  that  neighbourhood. 
With  some  difficulty  I  contrived  to  accommodate  the  visitors 
with  seats,  and  provide  them  with  a  tolerable  dinner.  For- 
tunately, Moodie  had  brought  in  a  brace  of  fine  fat  partridges 
that  morning ;  these  the  servant  transferred  to  a  pot  of  boii- 
ing  water,  in  which  she  immersed  them  for  the  space  of  % 
minute— a  novel  but  very  expeditious  way  of  removing  the 
feathers,  which  then  come  off"  at  the  least  touch.  In  less  than 
ten  minutes  they  were  stuffed,  trussed,  and  in  the  bake-kettle ; 
and  before  the  gentlemen  -eturned  from  walking  over  the' 
farm,  the  dinner  was  on  the  table. 

To  our  utter  consternation,  Captain  S agreed  to  pur. 

chase,  and  asked  if  we  could  give  him  possession  in  a  week ! 
"  Good  heavens !"  cried  I,  glancing  reproachfully  at  Mr. 
,  who  was  discussing  his  partridge  with  stoical  indiffer- 
ence.    «  What  will  become  of  us  1    Where  are  we  to  go  ?" 

"  Oh,  make   yourself  easy ;  I  will  force  that  old  witch, 
Joe's  mother,  to  clear  out." 

"  But  'tis  impossible  to  stow  ourselves  into  that  pig-sty." 
"  It  will  only  be  for  a  week  or  two,  at  farthest.     This  is 
October ;  Joe  will  be  sure  to  be  off"  by  the  first  of  the  sleigh- 
ing." 

"  But  if  she  refuses  to  give  up  the  place  V 

"  Oh,  leave  her  to  me.  I'll  talk  her  over,"  said  the  know- 
ing  land  speculator.  "Let  it  come  to  the  worst,"  he  said, 
turning  to  my  husband,  «  she  will  go  out  for  the  sake  of  a  few 
dollars.  By  the  by,  she  refused  to  bar  the  dower  when  I 
bought  the  place ;  we  must  cajole  her  out  of  that.  It  is  a  fine 
afternoon ;  suppose  we  walk  over  the  hill,  and  try  our  luck 
with  the  old  nigger  ?" 


UNCLE  JOE  AND  inS  FAMILY. 


97 


I  felt  so  anxious  about  the  result  of  the  negotiation,  that, 
throwing  my  cloak  over  my  shoulders,  and  tymg  on  my  bonl 
net  without  the  assistance  of  a  glass,  I  took  my  husband'a 
arm,  and  we  walked  forth.  It  was  a  bright,  clear  afternoon, 
the  first  week  in  October,  and  the  fading  woods,  not  yet 
denuded  of  their  gorgeous  foliage,  glowed  in  a  mellow,  golden 
light.  A  soft  purple  haze  rested  on  the  bold  outline  of  the 
Haldemand  hills,  and  in  the  rugged  beauty  of  the  wild  land- 
scape I  soon  forgot  tlie  purport  of  our  visit  to  the  old 
woman's  log  hut. 

On  reaching  the  ridge  of  tne  hill,  the  lovely  valley  in 
which  our  future  home  lay,  smiled  peacefully  upon  us  from 
amidst  Its  fruitful  orchards,  stUl  loaded  with  their  rich,  ripe 
fruit.  ^ 

"  What  a  pretty  place  it  is  !''  thought  I,  for  the  first  time 
feeling  something  like  a  local  interest  in  the  spot  springmg  up 
in  my  heart.  "How  I  wish  those  odious  people  would  give 
us  possession  of  the  home  which  for  some  time  has  been 
our  own." 

The  log  hut  that  we  were  approaching,  and  in  which  the  old 

woman,  H ,  resided  by  herself— having  quarrelled  years 

ago  with  her  son's  wife— was  of  the  smallest  dimensions, 
only  containing  one  room,  which  served  the  old  dame  for 
kitchen,  and  bedroom,  and  all.  The  open  door,  and  a  few 
glazed  panes,  supplied  it  with  light  and  air;  while  a  huge 
hearth,  on  which  crackled  two  enormous  logs— which  are 
technically  termed  a  front  and  a  back  stick— took  up  nearly 
half  the  domicile;  and  the  old  woman's  bed,  which  was  cov- 
ered  with  an  unexceptionably  clean  patched  quilt,  nearly  the 
other  half,  leaving  just  room  for  a  small  home-made  deal 
table,  of  the  rudest  workmanship,  two  basswood-bottomed 
chairs,  stained  red,  one  of  which  was  a  rocking-chair,  appropri. 
ated  solely  to  the  old  woman's  use,  and  a  spinning-wheel. 

6 


;f 


;'i 


I, 


I 


98 


ItOUOIIim  IT  IN  THE  BUSIT. 


you  had"    ':'"»"  ""-'^^d  '»'»  -oh  a  tiny  .pL  that 

ChTf  tiTd  1      T      "  ""  '■'""""•  """•  »  ^'^'^  -«-  "a^d. 
hn  r  '  ^''"^  '™''''  hood-fashion,  shclli,,,  wUte 

bu«h-bea„s  .nto  a  wooden  bowl.     Without  rising  fi°„  h  ' 
«eat,  ,he  pomted  to  the  only  remaining  ehair.  °"    it 
mrs,,you  ean  sit  there;  and  if  the  others  ean't  stand  thel' 
can  make  a  seat  of  my  bed."  '     ^ 

The  gentlemen  assured  her  that  they  were  not  tired  and 
could  dispense  with  scats     Mr  .k  «  "oi  tired,  and 

was"  !l"e    """^  • '"'  *"""  ^"  '^^'"«  J'^"'  "'  *e  lii<e  of  you  " 

o"  ™r;r -^^ ,  L'r-t"^™  ^--'^^  -^  ^-  -^^ 

to  you  and  yours"    '  ^       """^ ^^^  "  '''"»  '"'■■g'"'' 

fled"^-''l; "        '"  """'""'  *'  '™''  speculator,  nothing  ruf- 
lied  bj  her  itnceremonious  greeting  "  I  n^„i.i      .  i,  , 

that  others  can  suffer  for  their  folly.'  ^  '"""^"^^ 

''  Suffer  r  repeated  the  old  womn».    flo  i,- 

give  for  the  place  ?»  ^  '    ""^^^  ""^ht  your  man 

"Three  hundred  pounds  in  cash."      - 


mcLE  JOE  Am  ms  fauilt.  99 

'•  Poor  sufTerer  !"  „gai„  sneered  the  hag.     "  Four  hundred 
dollars  ,s  a  very  ,,«„«  p„nt  i„  as  ,nauy  week,,.     Well  I 

you  here  to^ay,  soenfng  about  you  like  a  earrion-crow  ?    We 
have  no  more  land  for  you  to  seize  from  us  " 

uo  h  ?;«       "^       f  ™'"™  ""^  ">'"S  '"  '^"--^  to  give 
up  the  eottage  and  reside  with  her  son  until  he  removed  from 

the  prcnnses ;  wh.eh,  he  added,  must  be  in  a  very  short  tim" 

The  old  dame  regarded  him  with  a  saroastie  smile    "  i 

guess,  Joe  w,.l  take  his  own  time.    TI,e  house  is  not  bui, 

vheh  ,s  to  reeeive  h„n;  and  he  is  not  a  man  to  turn  his 

Wk  upon  a  warm  hearth  to  eamp  in  the  wilderness.     You 

wc  e  gree,^  when  you  bought  a  farm  of  that  man,  without 

gottmg  along  with  it  the  right  of  possession." 

of  Ifghing?'  ^'~'  "'""  '""  f™™"'  "^  SO  o"'  ">o  fi-' 
"Wheugh!"  said  the  old  woman.  "Would  you  have  a 
man  g.ve  away  his  hat  and  leave  his  own  head  bare'  It's 
ne.ther  the  first  snow  nor  the  last,  frost  that  will  turn  Joe  out 
of  h,s  comfortable  home.  I  tell  you  all  that  he  will  stay  here 
if  It  IS  only  to  plague  you."  ^        ' 

Threats  and  remonstrances  were  alike  useless,  the  old 
woman  remamed  inexorable;  and  we  were  just  tirnin.  to 
leave  the  house,  when  the  running  old  fo.x  exclaimed,  "Ind 
now,  what  will  you  give  me  to  leave  my  place  «" 

"Twelve  dollars,  if  you  give  us  possession  next  Monday  " 
said  my  husband.  •'' 

;;  Twelve  dollars !    I  guess  you  won't  get  me  out  for  that." 

month  "    'TJ         ""'  ^'  *°"''  "°^«  "•»  "  doll'^r  " 
month,    said  Mr. ,  pointing  with  his  cane  to  the  dilap. 

dated  walls.       Air.  Moodie  has  offered  you  a  year's  rent  f» 


5i 


liii 


I 


100 


ROUGinNG  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


Hi  I 


(!  . 


"  It  may  not  be  worth  a  cent,"  returned  the  woman ;  «  for 
it  will  give  every  body  the  rheumatism  that  stays  a  week  in 
it— but  it  is  worth  that  to  me,  and  more  nor  double  that  just 
now  to  him.  But  I  will  not  be  hard  with  him,"  continued 
she,  rocking  herself  to  and  fro.  "  Say  twenty  dollars,  and  I 
will  turn  out  on  Monday." 

"I  dare  say  you  will,"  said  Mr. ,  "and  who  do  you 

thmk  would  be  fool  enough  to  give  you  sueh  an  exorbitant 
sum  for  a  ruined  old  shed  like  this  ?" 

"Mind  your  own  business,  and  make  your  own  bargains," 
returned  the  old  woman,  tartly.  "The  devil  himself  could 
not  deal  with  you,  for  I  guess  he  would  have  the  worst  of  it 
What  do  you  say,  sir?"  and  she  fixed  her  keen  eyes  upon  my 
husband,  as  if  she  would  read  his  thoughts.  "  Will  vou  aeree 
to  my  price]"  ^ 

"It  is  a  very  high  one,  Mrs.  H ;  but  as  I  cannot  help 

myself,  and  you  take  advantage  of  that,  I  suppose  I  must 
give  it." 

"  'Tis  a  bargain,"   cried  the  old  crone,  holding  out  her 
hard,  bony  hand.     "  Come,  cash  down  !" 

"Not  until  you  give  me  possession  on  Monday  next;  or 
you  might  serve  me  as  your  son  has  done." 

"Ha!"   said  the  old  woman,  laughing  and   rubbing  her 
hands  together ;  "  you  begin  to  see  daylight,  do  you  ?    In  a 

few  months,  with  the  help  of  him,"  pointing  to  Mr 

"  you  will  be  able  to  go  alone ;  but  have  a  care  of  your 
teacher,  for  it's  no  good  that  you  will  learn  from  him.  But 
will  you  really  stand  to  your  word,  mister  ?"  she  added  in  a 
coaxing  tone,  «  if  I  go  out  on  Monday  ?" 

"  To  be  sure  I  will ;  I  never  break  my  word." 

"  Well,  I  guess  you  are  not  so  clever  as  our  people,  for 
they  only  keep  it  as  long  as  it  suits  them.  You  have  an  hon- 
est  look  ;  T  will  trust  you  ;  but  I  will  not  trust  him,"  nodding 


m-E  JOE  AND  niS  FAMILY. 


101 

*""  ^''  rT'  "  ^'  f "  ^'"^  ^"^  '""  ^'^  ^'^^-^  ^«  *'^«t  as  a  horse 
can  rot.  So  on  Monday  I  will  turn  out  my  traps.  I  ha" 
lived  here  six-and-thirty  years;  'tis  a  pretty  pla'c  ,  and  it 
vexes  me  to  leave  it,"  eontinued  the  poor  ereatur'e,  as'atuch 

L, r^TH       "'  "^""'  ^"'  ""^^"^  herworid-hardened 
heait.^      There  ,s  not  an  acre  in  cultivation  but  I  helped  to 
clear  it,  nor  a  tree  in  yonder  orchard  but  I  held  it  while  my 
poor  man    who  is  dead  and  gone,  planted  it;  and  I  have 
watched  the  trees  bud  from  year  to  year,  until  their  boughs 
overshadowed  the  hut,  where  all  my  children,  but  Joe,  were 
born.    Yes,  I  came  here  young,  and  in  my  prime;  and  I  must 
leave  it  m  age  and  poverty.     My  children  and  husband  are 
dead,  and  their  bones  rest  beneath  the  turf  in  the  burvin<r, 
ground  on  the  side  of  the  hill.    Of  all  that  once  gathered  about 
my  knees,  Joe  and  his  young  ones  alone  remain.     And  it  is 
hard  very  hard,  that  I  must  leave  their  graves  to  be  turned 
by  the  plough  of  a  s';ranger." 

I  felt  for  the  desolate  old  creature-the  tears  rushed  to 
my  eyes  ;  but  there  was  no  moisture  in  hers.  No  rain  from 
the  heart  could  niter  through  that  iron  soil 

"Be  assured,  Mrs.  H ,»  said  Moodie,  "that  the  dead 

win  be  held  sacred;  the  place  will  never  be  disturbed  by 

"Perhaps  not;  but  it  is  not  long  that  you  will  remain 
here.  I  have  seen  a  good  deal  in  my  time ;  but  I  never  saw 
a  gentleman  from  the  old  country  make  a  good  Canadian 
farmer.  The  work  is  rough  and  hard,  and  they  get  out  of  hu- 
mour  with  it,  and  leave  it  to  their  hired  helps,  and  then  all 
goes  wTong.  They  are  cheated  on  all  sides,  and  in  despair 
take  to  the  whiskey  bottle,  and  that  fixes  them.  I  tell  you 
what  It  is,  mister-I  give  you  just  three  years  to  spend  your 
money  and  ruin  yourself;  and  then  you  will  become  a  con- 
hrmed  drunkard,  like  the  rest." 


m 


•'*ss^«aai([Rj_ . 


102 


norouim  IT  m  the  busit. 


W  !  the  last  has  never  been  fulfilled,  and  never  can  be 
Pereeiving  that  the  old  woman  was  not  a  little  elated'with 

her  bargam,  Mr urged  upon  her  the  propriety  of  bar- 

|ng  the  dower.     At  first,  she  was  outrageous,  Tnd  Ly  all 

tTat'  r  "T'  '"  '^^  P^^^^"^^  ''''''  -"^^-P^;  vowing 
^lat  she  would  meet  him  in  a  certain  place  below,  before  she 
would  sign  away  her  right  to  the  property. 

^^    «  Listen  to  reason,  Mrs.  H ,"  said  the  land  speculator. 

If  you  will  s,gn  the  papers  before  the  proper  authorities,  the 
nexUime  your  son  drives  you  to  C ,  I  will  give  you  a  silk 

y.l^T^\  ^""l  ^  '^''""^  ^or  yourself;  you  will  need  it 
before  I  want  a  sdk  gown,"  was  the  ungracious  reply. 
,  Consider,  woman ;  a  black  silk  of  the  best  quality." 

farmr    ""'"^  '"    ^'''    "^^   "^"'  ^'  ^''  ^"  ^'''  ^^  '^^ 

r.:  "  l"""^?  ^"'^f  '^"'^"'^  ^'' '  ^^^h'^"*  "oticing  her 

rejomder,  «  at  a  dollar  a  yard.     Tliink  what  a  nice  church- 
gomg  gown  it  will  make." 

"  To  the  devil  with  you  !     I  never  go  to  church." 

I  thought  as  much,"  said  Mr ,  M^i„king  to  us.  "  Well 

my  dear  madam,  what  will  satisfy  you  ?"  ' 

.  7^^^""  '1/'''  *''^'"*^  ^^"^'''"  "^^"^"^<i  the  old  woman, 
rockmg  herself  to  and  fro  in  her  chair;  her  eyes  twinkling 
and  her  hands  movmg  convulsively,  as  if  she  already  grasped 
the  money  so  dear  to  her  soul. 

^  "Agreed,"  said  the  land  speculator.  «  When  will  you  be 
m  town?"  ^  J""  "o 

"  On  Tuesday,  if  I  be  alive.     But,  remember,  I'll  not  sign 
till  1  have  my  hand  on  the  money  " 

tbelT'™'  ^T"  'f  ^'- •  "'  '"'  l^tt^-J  the  house; 

then,  turnmg  to  me,  he  added,  with  a  peculiar  smile,  «  That's 


UNCLE  JOE  AND  BTS  FAMIir.  103 

a  devilish  smart  woman.    She  would  have  made  a  clever 
lawyer." 

^  Monday  eame,  a  .d  with  it  all  the  bustle  of  moving,  and,  a8 
IS  generally  the  case  on  such  occasions,  it  turned  out  a  very 
wet  day^  I  left  Old  Satan's  hut  without  regret,  glad,  at  any 
ra  e,  to  be  ni  a  place  of  my  own,  however  humble.  Our  new 
habitation,  though  small,  had  a  decided  advantage  over  the 
one  we  were  leaving.  It  stood  on  a  gentle  slope  ;  and  a  nar- 
row but  lovely  stream,  full  of  pretty  speckled  trout,  ran 
murmurmg  under  the  little  window;  the  house,  also,  was 
surrounded  by  fine  fruit-trees. 

I  know  not  how  it  was,  but  the  sound  of  that  tinkling 
brook,  for  ever  rolling  by,  filled  my  heart  with  a  strange 
melancholy,  which  for  many  nights  deprived  me  of  rest      I 
loved  ,t,  too.     The  voice  of  waters,  in  the  stillness  of  night 
always  had  an  extraordinary  effect  upon  my  mind      Their 
ceaseless  motion  and  perpetual  sound  convey  to  me  the  idea 
of  hfe-eternallife;  and  looking  upon  them,  glancing  and 
flashing  on,  now  in  sunshine,  now  in  shade,  now  hoarselv 
chiding  with  the  opposing  rock,  now  leaping  triumphantly 
over  It  -creates  within  me  a  feeling  of  mysterious  awe  of 
which  1  never  could  wholly  divest  myself. 

A  portion  of  my  own  spirit  seemed  to  pass  into  that  little 
stream.     In  its  deep  wailings  and  fretful  sighs,  I  fancied  my- 
self  lamenting  for  the  land  I  had  left  for  ever;  and  its  restless 
and  impetuous  rushings  against  the  stones  which  choked  its 
passage,  were  mournful  types  of  my  own  mental  struggles 
against  the  strange  destiny  which  hemmed  me  in.     Throu-h 
the  day  the  stream  still  moaned  and  travelled  on  —but  en 
gaged  m  my  novel  and  distasteful  occupations,  I  helrd  it  iot  • 
but  whenever  my  winged  thoughts  flew  homeward,  then  the 
voice  of  the  brook  spoke  deeply  and  sadly  to  my  heart,  and 
my  tears  flowed  unchecked  t^  its  plaintive  and  harmonious 
music. 


NI 


iii) 


104  Hotroimo  ir  nr  tub  ausrr. 

In  ut^y,  h.,u™  r  ha,;  mjr  ..  ,  »borte  more  comfortably 
arranged  than  fb,'  old  on,  „'•'  ,,,1.  •„.  ^-  ■  "'""'""/ 
•mailer     Th„  ,      .  '  '^        d.i«.on.s.,m3  were  much 

.mailer.     The  1o<..IImm  ,>,^  b.,.,.«ful,  and  I  „.,  „Mtly  con. 
soled  by  th  s  c  rcum.tan,-,.      t>,..  .    »  n,       "    "  v  <-on. 

•„,i  1 1,  "wi'i.     Iho  aspect  <jf  Nature  evi-t  did, 

and  I  hope  evtr  »iij  continue, 

"To  ,l,„  ,.|  mrvcUoiis  strength  into  lu^-  heart." 

A»  long  as  we  remain  tru,:  ,„  the  Divine  Mother,  ,„  i,„„^i,i 
she  remnu.  faithful  to  her  surtoring  children 

At  that  period  my  love  for  Canada  w.as  a  fcelin,r  very 

of  thr;r:t    ' ""  "'"""^  '^'"^  "'™»«'>  "«'p°«»>» 

The  fell  rains  had  commenced.    In  a  few  days  the  cold 
wmtry  showers  swept  all  the  gorgeous  crimson^rom  the 

shudd  r.ng  spectator.     But,  i.,  spite  of  wind  and  rain,  my 
httle  tenement  was  never  free  from  the  intrusion  of  Unde 
Joe's  .    S,  ^  children.    Their  house  stood  about  a  stonet 
*row  n-om  V  -  hut  we  occupied,  in  the  same  meadow  and 
fliey  seemed  •  ,  look  upon  it  stUl  as  their  own,  althc^h  we 
had  iHcrally  pa,d  for  it  twice  over.    Fme  strapp  „g  girfs  thiy 
were  from  five  years  old  to  fourteen,  but  rude  an^  „n„uT 
««d  as  so  many  bears.    Uey  would  come  in  without  tht 
least  ceremony,  and,  young  as  they  were,  ask  me  a  thousand 
.mpcrtment  questions;  and  when  I  civilly  requested  them  to 
1  ave  the  room,  they  would  range  themselves  upon  thcToor 
step,  watching  my  motio,.,  with  their  black  eyes  gkaming 
upon  me  through  their  tangled,  uncombed  locks     Uefr  com 
pany  was  a  great  annoyance,  for  it  obliged  me  to  put  a  pn^nful" 
restramt  upon  the  thoughtfulness  in  which  it  was  so  derhtfu 
^  me  to  mdu  ge     n,eir  visits  were  not  visits  of  love,  bt  of 
mere  idle  curiosity,  not  unmingled  with  malicious  hatred. 


VXCLE  JOE  AXD  JUS  FAMlZr:  106 

The  simplicity,  tlie  fond,  confiding  ,  |,h  of  childliood   ,. 

unkno,.,  in  Canada.     n,oro  arc  no  children  h.re   Ihe  boy 

.sam,n,aU.ro„»„-kno^  ing,  keen,  and  wide  awake,  a^ableto 

iortth  "^"'"  "'■''"''"""  "''™"'''«^'''''«'i"venile  Compaq 

pl  fl  Tr7'  ""^"-'""^-J  "'-•  The  gi,.,,  a  golip. 
p.ng  fl„t,  full  of  van,ty  and  aflfcctatiun,  with  a  premature 
love  of  fino,.y,  „„<,  „„  ,,„j,  .^^  ^^        advLtages   „ 

bo  derived  from  wealth,  and  from  keeping  up  a  ce  to  Vr^ 
pearanco  in  the  world.  i    b    P  »  ceruim  ap- 

bird?rf'!hr''-'  ""',T"  ^''''"'  "■"  8'°"°"'  ^-'hine,  the 
b..d»  of   he  air,  and  the  young  lamks  gambolling  down  the 

verclant  .lop..,  which  fill  the  heart  of  a  British  child  wOt^a 
fond  c,*cy,  bathing  the  young  spirit  in  Elysium  would  float 
unnofeed  before  the  vision  of  a  Canadian'chird'rrw t    h 
^■ght  of  a  dollar,  or  a  new  dress,  or  a  gay  bonnet  wo  ,M 
swe.  its  proud  bosom  with  sdf-im^ortance".  de  ;;  "te 
g  onous  blush  of  modest  dimdence,  the  tear  of  gentt  symp^ 
%,  are  so  rare  on  the  cheek,  or  in  the  eye  of  the  young  Z" 
he,r  appearance  creates  a  feeling  of  surprise.     Such  p  rfee 
self-rebance  in  beings  so  new  to  the  world  is  painful  o  a 
thmku,g  mmd.     It  betrays  a  great  want  of  sensibility  and 
mental  culture,  and  a  melancholy  knowledge  of  the  arts "f 

For  a  week  I  was  alone,  my  good  Scotch  girl  having  left 
me  to  vs,t  her  father.    Some  small  baby-artidfs  we^S 
to  be  washed,  and  after  making  a  great  preparation,  I  deter 
Tamed  to  try  my  unskilled  hand  upon  the  operation,    lietc 
.3, 1  knew  nothu,g  about  the  task  I  had  imposed  upon  myself 
and  ,n  a  few  minutes  rubbed  the  skin  off  my  wriL  ^fll  . 
getf.,g  the  clothes  clean.  ^  '  '^'"'°"' 

The  door  was  open,  as  it  generally  was,  even  during  the 

the  smoke,  wh.ch  otherwise  would  have  enveloped  ua  like  . 


■«aK 


106 


Ttouanma  it  in  the  bush. 


li  Hi 


i^iiib 


cloud  I  was  so  busy  that  I  did  not  perceive  that  [  was 
watched  by  the  cold,  heavy,  dark  eyes  of  Mrs.  Joe,  who, 
with  a  sneering  laugh,  exclaimed, 

"  Well,  thank  God !  I  am  glad  to  see  you  brought  to 
work  at  last.  I  hope  you  may  have  to  work  as  hard  as  I 
have.  I  don't  see,  not  I,  why  you,  who  are  no  better  than 
me,  should  sit  still  all  day,  like  a  lady  !" 

"  Mrs.  H ,"  said  I,  not  a  little  annoyed  at  her  presence 

"  what  concern  is  it  of  yours  whether  I  work  or  sit  still  ?  -  I 
never  interfere  with  you.  If  you  took  it  into  your  head  to 
he  m  bed  all  day,  I  should  never  trouble  myself  about  it." 

"  Ah,  I  guess  you  don't  look  upon  us  as  fellow-critters  you 
are  so  proud  and  grand.  I  s'pose  you  Britishers  are  not  made 
of  flesh  and  bk)od  like  us.  You  don't  choose  to  sit  down  at 
meat  with  your  helps.  Now,  I  calculate,  we  think  them,  a 
great  deal  better  nor  you." 

"  Of  course,"  said  I,  « they  are  more  suited  to  you  than  we 
are ;  they  are  uneducated,  and  so  are  you.  This  is  no  fault 
in  either ;  but  it  might  teach  you  to  pay  a  liltle  more  respect 
to  those  who  are  possessed  of  superior  advantages.   But,  Mrs. 

II ,  my  helps,  as  you  call  them,  are  civil  and  obliging' 

and  never  make  unprovoked  and  malicious  speeches.  If  they 
could  so  far  forget  themselves,  I  should  order  them  to  leave 
the  house." 

"  Oh,  I  see  what  you  are  lip  to,"  replied  the  insolent  dame  • 
'  you  mean  to  say  that  if  I  were  your  help  you  would  tunj 
me  out  of  your  house ;  but  I'm  a  free-bom  American,  and  I 
won't  go  at  your  bidding.  Don't  think  I  come  here  out  of 
regard  to  you.  No,  I  hate  you  all ;  and  I  rejoice  to  see  you 
at  the  wash-tub,  and  I  wish  that  you  may  be  brought  down 
upon  your  knees  to  scrub  the  floors." 

This  speech  only  caused  a  smile,  and  yet  I  felt  hurt  and 
astonished  that  a  woman  whom  I  had  never  done  any  thing 


UNCLE  JOE  AND  HIS  FAMILY.  '  107 

to  offend  should  be  so  gratuitously  spiteful.  In  the  evening 
she  senfc  two  of  her  brood  over  to  borrow  my  "long  iron  "  as 
she  called  an  Italian  iron.  I  was  just  getting  my  baby  to 
sleep,  sittmg  upon  a  low  stool  by  the  fire.  I  pointed  to  the 
imi  upon  tj.e  shelf,  and  told  the  girl  to  take  it.  She  did  so, 
but  stood  beside  me,  holding  it  carelessly  in  her  hand,  and 
staring  at  the  baby,  who  had  just  sunk  to  sleep  upon  my 

The  next  moment  the  heavy  iron  fell  from  her  relaxed 
grasp,  giving  me  a  severe  blow  upon  my  knee  and  foot :  and 
glanced  so  near  the  child's  head  that  it  drew  from  me  a  cry 
oi  terror.  -^ 

"  I  guess  that  was  nigh  braining  the  child,"  quoth  Miss 
Amanda  with  the  greatest  coolness,  and  without  making  the 
least  apology.  Master  Ammon  burst  into  a  loud  laugh.  -  If 
It  had,  Mandy,  I  guess  we'd  have  cotched  it."  Provoked  at 
their  msolence,  I  told  them  to  leave  the  house.  The  tears 
were  m  my  eyes,  for  I  felt  certain  that  had  they  injured  the 
child,  It  would  not  have  caused  them  the  least  regret. 

The  next  day,  as  we  were  standing  at  the  door,  my  hus- 
band  was  greatly  amused  by  seeing  fat  Uncle  Joe  chasing  the 
rebellious  Ammon  over  the  meadow  in  front  of  the  house. 
Joe  was  out  of  breath,  panting  and  puffing  like  a  small  steam, 
engine,  and  his  face  flushed  to  deep  red  with  excitement  and 

passion.     "  You young  scoundrel !"  he  cried,  half  choked 

with  fury,  "if  I  catch  up  to  you,  I'll  take  the  skin  off* you  !" 

"  You old  scoundrel,  you  may  have  my  skin  if  you 

can  get  at  me,"  retorted  the  precious  child,  as  he  jumped  up 
upon  the  top  of  the  high  fence,  and  doubled  his  fist  in  a  men- 
acing  manner  at  his  father. 

"  That  boy  is  growing  too  bad,"  said  Uncle  Joe  coming  up 

to  us  out  of  breath,  the  perspiration  streaming  down  his  face. 

It  is  time  to  break  him  in,  or  he'll  get  the  master  of  us  all." 


108 


ROUGHim  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


'i  11 


"  You  should  have  begun  that  before,"  said  Moodie.    «  Ha 
seems  a  hopeful  pupil."  * 

father,  "I  swear  myself,  I  know,  and  as  the  old  cock  crows 
so  crows  the  yom.g  one.  It  is  not  his  swearing  that  I  ^H 
pm  for,  but  he  will  not  do  a  thing  I  tell  him  to  " 

in  tL^momW  "*""■"'  ™^'"  "''  '•  ""'«■. -cl'ed  as  it  is 
m  the  mouth  of  a  grown-up  person,  it  is  perfectly  shocking  in 

feat  Of  Ud'"^""'  '^"^  "^  "^^  ''"=^"  "^'S'^'  "P  without'th: 
"Pooh!  pooh!  that's  all  cut;  there  is  no  harm  in  a  few 
oaths,  and  I  cannot  drive  oxen  and  horses  without  swerrinj 
I  dare  say  that  you  can  swear  too  when  you  are  riled  buTvot 
are  too  cunning  to  let  us  hear  you."  ^ 

I  could  not  help  laughing  outright  at  this  supposition,  but 
rephcd  very  qu,etly,  "  Those  who  practise  such  i^quities  never 
take  any  pams  to  conceal  them.    The  concealment  would  in 

their  gml ,  they  are  m  the  road  to  improvement."    The  man 

^^fottir ^^' "" '"' """  ^"^'^  ™  ^^■ 

The  next  minute  the  old  woman  came  in.  "I  guess  vou 
can  g.ve  me  a  piece  of  silk  for  a  hood,"  said  she, "  the  weather 
IS  growing  considerable  cold."  meweatner 

"Surely  it  cannot  well  be  colder  than  it  is  at  present" 
said  1,  givmg  her  the  rocking^=hair  by  the  fire  ' 

Ihis  IS  only  November;  after  the  Qu-istmas  thaw,  you'll 
know  something  about  cold.  It  is  scven-and-thirt;  IZl 
^o  smce  I  and  my  man  left  the  U-ni-ted  States,  ^t  wL 
called  the  year  of  the  great  winter.     I  tell  you    womT 

hat  the  snow  lay  so  deep  on  the  earth  that  it  bCk  J 11^ 
th.  r^ads,  and  w,  could  drive  a  sleigh  whither  T^^^ 


UNCLE  JOB  AND  ms  FAMILY.  109 

right  over  the  snake  fences.     All  the  cleared  land  was  one 
wide  wh,te  level  plain;   it  was  a  year  of  scarcity,  and  wo 
were  half  starved;  but  the  severe  cold  was  far  wors;  nor  Z 
want  of  provisions.    A  long  and  bitter  journey  we  had  of 
It ;  but  1  was  young  then,  and  pretty  well  used  to  trouble  and 
*at,gue ;    my  man  stuck  to  the  British  government.    More 
tool  he !     I  was  an  American  bom,  and  my  heart  was  with 
the  true  cause     But  his  father  was  English,  and,  says  he, 
I  il  hvo  and  d,e  under  their  flag,'    So  he  dragged  me  from 
my  comfortable  fireside  to  seek  a  home  in  their  Canadian 
w.Idemess      Trouble  -   I  guess  you  think  you  have  yo'r 
troubles;  but  what  are  they  to  mine?"    She  paused,  took 

the  red  handkerchief  from  her  high,  narrow,  wrinkled  brow 
and  c„ntm«ed:-"Joewas  a  baby  then,  and  I  had  anothl; 
h«,.,e.s  or.  ter  m  my  iap-an  adopted  child.  My  sister  had 
d,ed  from  .t,  and  I  was  nursing  it  at  the  same  breast  with 
my  boy.  Well,  we  had  to  perform  a  jom-ney  of  four  hundred 
miles  in  an  ox-cart,  which  carried,  besides  me  and  the  chil- 

It    ."""■  .'"'""''  ''"'^     *^""'  ™y  '"y  "h'^fly  through 

bitterly  ""t"'  ■""''  '"'  ^'°"  P™S^-'-     Oh !  what  a 
bitter  cold  night  it  was  when  we  reached  the  swampy  woods 

where  the  city  of  Rochester  now  stands.     Hie  oxenTe  e 

hndle  a  fire;  I  am  dead  with  cold,  and  I  fear  the  babes 
will  be  frozen.'  We  began  looking  about  for  a  good  spot 
to  camp  in,  when  I  spied  a  light  through  the  trees'  It  wa 
a  lone  shanty,  occupied  by  two  French  lumberers.  The  men 
were  kind;  they  rubbed  our  frozen  limbs  with  snow, Id 
shared  with  us  their  supper  and  buffalo  skins.  On  that  very 
spot  where  we  camped  that  night,  where  we  heard  nothing 
but  the  wmd  soughmg  amongst  the  trees,  and  the  rushing 


il 


110 


ROUaHINQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


■i  ,1  ■  ij  I  .1 


iiiti 


of  the   nver,  now  stands  the  great  city  of  Rochester.    I 
went  there  two  years  ago,  to  the  funeral  of  a  brother.     It 
seemed  to  me  like  a  dream.     Where  we  foddered  our  beasts 
by  the  shanty  fire,  now  stands  t>.o  largest  hotel  in  the  city 
and  my  husband  left  this  fine  growing  country  to  starve  here  " 
I  was  so  much  interested  in  the  old  woman's  narrative— 
for  she  was  really  possessed  of  no  ordinary  capacity,  and 
though  rudo  and  uneducated  might  have  been  a  very  superior 
person  undei  different  circumstances-that  I  rummaged  among 
my  stores,  and  soon  found  a  piece  of  black  silk,  which  I  gave 
her  for  the  hood  she  required. 

The  old  woman  examined  it  carefully  over,  smiled  to  her- 
self,  but,  like  all  her  people,  was  too  proud  to  return  a  word 
of  thanks.     One  gift  to  the  family  always  involved  another. 

Have  you  any  cotton-batting,  or  black  sewing-silk,  to  give 
me,  to  quilt  it  with  T  0,5 

"No." 

"  Humph,"  returned  the  old  dame,  in  a  tone  which  seemed 
to  contradict  my  assertion.  She  then  seated  herself  in  her 
chair,  and,  after  shaking  her  foot  awhile,  and  fixing  her  pierc 
mg  eyes  upon  me  for  some  minutes,  she  commenced  the  fol- 

lowing  list  of  interrogatories: 

"  Is  your  father  alive?" 

"No;  he  died  many  years  ago,  when  I  was  a  young  girl » 

"Is  your  mother  alive?" 

"Yes." 

"  What  is  her  name  ?"    I  satisfied  her  on  this  point. 
"  Did  she  ever  marry  again  ?" 

"She  might  have  done  so,  but  she  loved  her  husband  too 
well,  and  preferred  living  single." 

"  Humph  !     We  have  no  such  notions  here.     What  was 
your  father  ?" 

"A  gentleman,  who  lived  upon  his  own  estate." 


UNCLE  JOE  AND  SIS  FAMILY. 


Ill 


"  Did  he  die  rich  ?" 

"He  lost  the  greatest  part  of  his  property  from  being 
surety  for  another."  ^    r     j  cujg 

.X.  r  ^^fl  ^  f"""^''^  ^^^^riess.    My  man  burnt  his  fingers  with 
that.     And  what  brought  you  out  to  this  poor  country-vou 
who  are  no  more  fit  for  it  than  I  am  to  be  a  fine  lady  ^"         ' 
"The  promise  of  a  large  grant  of  land,  and  the  false  state- 
ments  ve  heard  regarding  it." 
"  Do  you  like  the  country  ?" 
"  No ;  and  I  fear  I  never  shall." 

"I  thought  not;  for  the  drop  is  always  on  your  cheek,  the 
children  tell  me;  and  those  young  ones  have  keen  eyes. 
Now,  take  my  advice :  return  while  your  money  lasts  •  the 
longer  you  remain  in  Canada  the  less  you  will  like  it;'  and 
When  your  money  is  all  spent,  you  will  be  like  a  bird  in  a 
cage;  you  may  beat  your  wings  against  the  bars,  but  you 
cant  get  out"  lliere  was  a  long  pause.  I  hoped  that  my 
guest  had  sufficiently  gratified  her  curiosity,  when  she  again 
commenced: —  ° 

"How  do  you  get  your  money?     Do  you  draw  it  from 
the  old  country,  or  have  you  it  with  you  in  cash^" 

Provoked  by  her  pertinacity,  and  seeing  no  end  to  her 

cross-questioning,  I  replied,  very  impatiently,  "Mrs  H 

IS  It  the  custom  in  your  country  to  catechise  strangers  when- 
ever you  meet  with  them  ?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  she,  colouring,  I  believe,  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life. 

"I  mean,"  quoth  I,  «an  evU  habit  of  asking  impertinent 
questions."  *  r       ^ 

The  old  woman  got  up,  and  left  the  house  without  speaking 
another  word.  ^ 


'f  i 


1 

f '  '■■^1 

»i«§8S>#.S 


rl 


m'IIi%|p 


112 


ROUGHING  IT  IN  TEE  BUSH. 


CHAPTEE   YIII. 

JOHN    MONAGHAN. 

♦'  Dear  mother  Nature !  on  thy  ample  breast 
Hast  thou  not  room  for  thy  neglected  aon  ? 
A  stern  necessity  has  driven  him  forth 
Alone  anc'  (•   -ndless.    He  has  naught  but  thee, 
And  the  b     ^*  hand  and  stronger  heart  thou  ga vest, 
To  win  with  patient  toil  his  daily  bread." 

A    FEW  days  after  the  old  woman's  visit  to  the  cottage,  our 
■^^  servant  James  absented  himself  for  a  week,  without  ask- 
ing leave,  or  giving  any  intimation  of  his  intention.     He  had 
under  his  care  a  fine  pair  of  horses,  a  yoke  of  oxen,  three 
cows  and  a  numerous  family  of  pigs,  besides  having  to  chop 
all  the  firewood  required  for  our  use.     His  unexpected  d^ 
parture  caused  no  small  trouble  in  the  family;  and  when  the 
truant  at  last  made  his  appearance,  Moodie  discharged  him 
altogether.  ^  " 

The  winter  had  now  fairly  set  in-the  iron  winter  of  1833 
Ihe  snow  was  unusually  deep,  and  it  being  our  first  winter  in 
Canada,  and  passed  in  such  a  miserable  dwelling,  we  felt  it  very 
severely.     In  spite  of  all  my  boasted  fortitude-and  I  think 
my  powers  of  endurance  have  been  tried  to  the  uttermost  since 
my  sojourn  in  this  country^the  rigour  of  the  climate  subdued 
my  proud,  independent  English  spirit,  and  I  actually  shamed 
my  womanhood  and  cried  with  the  cold.     Yes,  I  ought  to 
blush  at  evincing  such  unpardonable  weakness;   but  I  was 
toolish  and  inexperienced,  and  unaccustomed  to  the  yoke 


JOHN  MONA  OMAN.  j  j  3 

My  husband  did  not  much  relish  performing  the  menial 
duties  o.  a  servant  in  such  weather,  but  he  did  not  com- 
plam,  and  m  the  mean  time  commenced  an  active  inquiry  for 
a  man  to  supply  the  place  of  the  one  he  had  lost ;  but  at  that 
season  ot  the  year  no  one  was  to  be  had. 

It  was  a  bitter,  freezing  night.     A  sharp  wind  howled  with- 
out, and  drove  the  fine  snow  through  the  chinks  in  the  door 
almost  to  the  hearth-stone,  on  which  two  immense  blocks  of 
maple  shed  forth  a  cheering  glow,  brightening  the  narrow 
>vmdow-panes,  and  making  the  blackened  rafters  ruddy  with 
the  heart-mvigorating  blaze.     The  toils  of  the  day  were  over 
the  supper-things  cleared  away,  and  the  door  closed  for  the 
night.     Moodie  had  taken  up  his  flute,  the  sweet  companion 
of  happier  days,  at  the  earnest  request  of  our  home-sick  Scotch 
servant-girl,  to  cheer  her  drooping  spirits  by  playing  some  of 
he  touchmg  national  airs  of  the  glorious  mountain  land,  the 
and  of  chivalry  and  song,  the  heroic  North.     Before  retiring 

wifff  '  ^\T^'"\  '"  ''^""^'^  '''  '''  -"«^«'  kept  tim: 
with  foot  and  hand,  while  large  tears  gathered  in  her  soft  blue 
e^yes. 

"  Ay  'tis  bonnie  thae  songs ;  but  they  mak'  me  greet,  an' 
my  puir  heart  ,s  sair,  sair  when  I  think  on  the  bonnie  braes 
and  the  days  o'  lang  syne." 

Poor  Bell !  Her  heart  was  among  the  hills,  and  mine  had 
wandered  far  far  away  to  the  green  groves  and  meadows  of 
iny  own  fair  land  The  music  and  our  reveries  were  alike 
abruptly  banished  by  a  sharp  blow  upon  the  door.  Bell  rose 
and  opened  it  when  a  strange,  wild-looking  lad,  barefooted, 
and  with^no  other  covering  to  his  head  than  the  thick,  matted 
locks  of  rave...  blackness,  that  hung  like  a  cloud  over  his 
swarthy,  sunburnt  visage,  burst  into  the  room 

"  Guidness  defend  us!     Wha  ha'e  we  here?"  screamed 
Bell,  retreating  into  a  comer.    «  The  puir  caDant^s  no  cannie  » 


114 


nouGnrna  it  m  the  busk 


r   J 


My  husband  turned  hastily  round  to  meet  the  intruder 
and  I  ra,sed  the  candle  from  the  table  the  better  to  dist  ITh 
h  s  faee ;  wh.le  Boll,  from  her  hidh,g.p,ace,  regarded  him  w  h 
«nequ.vo«.l  glanees  of  fear  and  mistrust,  waving  her  hands  to 
me,  and  p„mt,ng  s.gn.fieantly  to  open  the  door,  as  if  silently 
beseeohing  mo  to  tell  her  master  to  tu,..  him  out 

"Shut  the  door,  man,"  said  Moodie,  whose  long  serutiny  of 
^ho  strange  be,ng  before  us  seemed  upon  the  whole  satiL- 
rory ,      we  shall  be  frozen." 

"Thin,  faith,  sir,  that's  vhat  I  am,"  said  the  lad  in  a  rieh 
brogue,  wbeh  told,  without  asking,  the  country  to  which  he 

«nueT"R  ?"  ""?'"^  "''  ""^^  "^"-'^  '°  *«  «-.  "e  -! 

"  W.  ^  r'  '"■'  '  ™'  "<'™''  '"  ™'"-  i"^"  in  "y  life  !" 
here,     y""        H  °°"'  ^"'"'  ™'  ''^'  '^  ^""^  '»'-■">» 
take  a  house  by  storm  in  this  way," 

.„„'!•?'""  '"°'  ^°"''  '■■■•   ^"^  "'""''"y  '"'°«'=  no  'aw;  and  the 
cond,tK,„  you  see  me  in  must  plade  for  me.    First,  thin,  sir  I 

Id  '  k  fth  1  •™'l'  ^'""«*i"g  <»  ate.  As  I'm  Live, 
and  t,  a  thousand  pmes  that  I'm  alive  at  all  at  all,  for  sure 
God  Alm,ghty  never  made  sich  a  misfortunate  cratLer  afore 
nor  s.„ce;  I  have  had  nothing  to  put  in  my  head  since  I  ran 

away  from  my  ould  masther,  Mr.  F ,  yesterday  at  noon 

Money  I  have  none,  sir ;  the  divil  a  cent.   I  have  neither  a  sho^ 
to  my  foot  nor  a  hat  to  my  head,  and  if  you  refuse  to  shelter 
me  the  mght  I  must  be  contint  to  perish  in  the  snow  for 
have  not  a  frind  in  the  wide  wurld  " 
alou^'!'  lad  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  sobbed" 

^J'fn"'"  '  ^^'T^"^'  "S°  '°  *•"=  -"■Pboa'-d  and  get  the 
poor  fellow  something  to  eat.     The  boy  is  starving  " 

Dmna  heed  him,  mistress,  dinna  credit  his  lees.    He  is 


•JOHN  MONAQHAN.  jj- 

Z:l:^^^  "'*°'  ^""'^'^  -'"'  "«•  J-t  stepped  in  to  ™b  and 
"Nonsense!     Do  as  I  bid  you." 

e'enHi:?;:;rbt"o-i^^^^^ 

<-o™  InX^r^TwhtdTd'  r  ""'^  ^^^*^  '»  P- 

of  leaving  the  house  if  h^         ^    "'  "■"'""■'"'"g  *'«'•  ">«»« 

ba„d,no lingerer  „xr!:«rrr  *^^'-- 

got  angry  in  good  earnp,f  „„^  herselfish  and  absurd  conduct, 

he.-se,f1  that  to  did  not t'e^t  °  If  >""  '"'  ""''''  "'"" 
received  into  his  house     I  1  '°''™  "^  »"  *'""»  he 

would  realise  her  threat    sle     ^^  ''""'  '"■'^  "°  '"^^  ""at  she 

""-rtirrtf-^^^^^ 

1  ou  vfiii  think  better  of  iV  ;«  ♦!,  . 

rose  and  placed  before  he  I,,^  """''"«■    '"'<•  '•  "^  ' 

a  bowl  of  millc  to  whth  1  """"  "°"  '""='''■'<»  ''^"^d,  and 
"  Why  d  d  yon  ™  V  "'"''™^  "''  ample  justice. 
"  Beca'^.se  /could  I'et-dT"'  "^  ""' '"  -'•"  ««<«». 
I'm  a  poor  foundling  f^L'  ^  b^  ' "'»  '^'"'  ^°"  "^'  ^"■• 
the  mother  that  bore  Zt^^:^'"'""^'  ^'"'"''  ""'  "^ 
knew  that  I  was  in  7  IVl  w  I  ^°'"' '™«  ''^''-^  I 
myself  intircly,  she  pui  „«  intoTbatt'':7„  f.T''  '"' 
my  necli,  to  tell  the  follts  ,1,.,  „  '     "  "  'a^el  round 

This  was  all  I  ever  lot  f  ^  ""'"'  ™^  '^'"m  Monaghan 
they  were,  I  ^SllT  llT'^'  ""''  -''°  »  -"^ 
had  cess  to  them  -    B„T'lW     '  7  >  ''"™'  ^'"med  me  : 

dare  not  own  me  fori  of  affi^f"";:'  ™''  ''"""S  '""y'  -ho 
and  mother.      Poor  foirsif"^*''"'*J'""-^' her  father 

^en;  'tis  all  j;::^c;;erc: ^Tt "' '''"■""■ 

•^  «ave,  sir;   but  my  parents 


II 

»*i'*SSiKi 


116 


MOUOEINQ  IT  m  TEE  BUSH. 


! 


!    i 
i    I 


m 


were  ashamed  of  me,  and  they  thrust  nie  out  to  the  stranger 
and  the  hard  bread  of  depindonee."  The  poor  lad  sighed 
deeply,  and  I  began  to  feel  a  growing  interest  in  his  sad 
history. 

'Tave  you  been  in  the  country  long?" 
"Four  years,   madam.      You   know  my   masther,    Mr 

r ;  he  brought  me  out  wid  him  as  his  apprentice,  and 

dunng  the  voyage  he  trated  me  well.     But  the  youn-  mc  i 
his  sons,  are  tyrants,  and  full  of  durty  pride;  and  I  could  not 
agree  wid  them  at  all  at  all.      Yesterday,  I  forgot  to  take  the 
oxen  out  of  the  yoke,  and  Musther  William  tied  me  up  to  a 
stump,  and  bate  me  with  the  raw  hide.     Shure  the  marks  are 
on  my  showlthers  yet.     I  left  the  oxen  and  the  yoke,  and 
turned  my  back  upon  them  all,  for  the  hot  blood  was  bilin' 
widm  me ;  and  I  felt  that  if  I  stayed  it  would  be  him  that 
would  get  the  worst  of  it.     No  one  had  ever  cared  for  me 
since  I  was  born,  so  I  thought  it  was  high  time  to  take  care 
of  myself.    I  had  heard  your  name,  sir,  and  I  thought  I  would 
find  you  out;   and  if  you  want  a  lad,  I  will  work  for  you  for 
my  kape,  and  a  fevr  dacent  clothes." 

A  bargain  was  soon  made.  Moodie  agreed  to  give  Mon- 
aghari  six  dollars  a  month,  which  he  thankfully  accepted  ;  and 
1  told  Bell  to  prepare  his  bed  in  a  corner  of  the  kitchen.  But 
mistress  Bell  thought  fit  to  rebel.  Having  been  guilty  of  one 
act  of  insubordination,  she  determined  to  be  consistent,  and 
throw  off  the  yoke  altogether.  She  declared  that  she  would 
do  no  such  thing;  that  her  life  and  all  our  lives  were  in 
danger ;  and  that  she  would  never  stay  another  night  under 
the  same  roof  with  that  Papist  vagabond. 

"Papist !"  cried  the  indignant  lad,  his  dark  eyes  flashing 
fire,  Im  no  Papist,  but  a  Protestant  like  yourself-  and  I 
hope  a  deuced  dale  better  Christian.  You  take  me  for  a 
thief  J   yet  shure  a  thief  would  have  waited  till  you  were  all 


L':!,;'  ''""^'  """  ""'  ^'""P^"  -  <•»--»  you  a>.  in  this 

nff".    1       •  *  ^    •     ^>^  ^"^  break  of  dav  sho  u-na 

otJ      leaving  me  for  tho  ro«f  r>^  ^k       •  -^         ^^^ 

the  fire,  s.ept  tho  ho„i,„rdreC:„tre^L'fr 
and  often  cooked  the  dinner  for  r„        T      .  ^"''^• 

thousand  little  attention,""  show  T  '"'\"f''->"^^^  V  a 

for  our  kindness.     Tolt  le  Kal  t  ':f  "^"f  *■"  '"""^  '"'' 

extraordinary  manner     A  U  ."'""'■"''  '"'""'<'"' '"  » 

^;-^.ei,hsLd:;:::,ortx^^^^^^^ 

sle.ghs  up  and  down  the  steep  hills  in  from  of  I., 
wrapped  up  in  a  blanket.     Of  a  „i»ht  T.  .IT  /.  '""^' 

bread  and  milk,  as  she  sat  by  the  fit 'and,'        """  "' 
was  to  feed  her  himself     After  tl,   '  ^'"'"''  ''""s'" 

would  carry  her  round'the^Lt  hTCr  aTd's^V^ 
songs  in  native  Irish      iTn*-      i  '  ^"°  ^^"g  ^er 

theioods  ^  :lt::;zzt:''''  r-  ^-" 

clasp  the  neck  of  her  dark  favoTritl!      ^    "    "  '""  "^^  '" 

"  Now  the  Lord  love  you  for  a  darlfnf  f"  v. 
he  caught  her  to  his  heart      "  Shure  1  lie  tb  "'"I    "^'  "' 

"c.     v^on,  jewu  !  1  could  lay  down  mv  i;ft.  ^  , 

proud  to  do  that  same."  ^    ^'  ^^'  ^^"'  ^^^  ^« 

Though  careless  and  reckless  about  everv  thintr  fho. 
cemed  himself,  John  w««  h.„...  ...  L  '^^'^,!^^"^  *^^*  ^«"- 


John  was  honest  and  true.    He  loved 


us  for 


118 


liouomm  IT  m  the  bush. 


i-  if 


the  compassion  wo  had  shown  him ;  and  he  would  have 
resented  any  injury  onbred  to  our  persons  with  his  best 
blood. 

But  if  we  were  pleased  with  our  new  servant,  Uncle  Joe 

and  his  family  W3re  not,  and  they  commenced  a  series  of 

petty  persecutions  that  annoyed  him  greatly,  and  kindled  into 

a  flame  all  the  fiery  particles  of  his  irritable  nature. 

Moodie  had  purchased  several  tons  of  hay  of  a  neighbour. 

mg  farmer,  for  the  use  of  his  cattle,  and  it  had  to  be  stowed 

into  the  same  barn  with  some  flax  and  straw  that  belonged  to 

Uncle  Joe.     Going  early  one  morning  to  fodder  the  cattle, 

John  found  Uncle  Joe  feeding  his  cows  with  his  master's  hay 

and  as  it  had  diminished  greatly  in  a  very  short  time,  he  ac^ 

cused  lum  m  no  measured  terms  of  being  the  thief     The 

other  very  coolly  replied  that  he  had  taken  a  little  of  the  hay 

m  order  to  repay  himself  for  his  flax,  that  Monaghan  had 

stolen  for  the  oxen.     "Now  by  the  powers!"  quoth  John, 

kmdhng  mto  wrath,  "  that  is  adding  a  big  lie  to  a  dirth^.  petty 

larceny.     I  take  your  flax,  you  ould  villain !     Shure  I  know 

that  flax  is  grown  to  make  linen  wid,  not  to  feed  oxen      God 

Almighty  has  given  the  crathers  a  good  wax-m  coat  of  their 

own ;  they  require  neither  shifts  nor  shirts."   . 

"I  saw  you  take  it,  you  ragged  Irish  vagabond,  with  my 
own  eyes."  '  j 

"  Thin  your  two  eyes  showed  you  a  wicked  illusion.  You 
had  better  shut  up  your  head,  or  I'll  give  you  that  for  an 
eye-salve  that  shall  make  you  see  thrue  for  the  time  to 
come." 

Relying  upon  his  great  size,  and  thinking  that  the  slight 
stnphng,  who,  by  the  by,  was  all  bones  and  sinews,  was  no 
match  for  him.  Uncle  Joe  struck  Monaghan  over  the  head  with 
the  pitchfork.  In  a  moment  the  active  lad  was  upon  him  like 
a  wild-cat,  and  in  spite  of  the  difference  of  his  age  and  weicrht 


JOim  MOyAGIUN. 

gare  the  biff  man  such  n  fh  ..      u   i 

to  roar  „l„ua  for  mercy  '*''  ^"^''^    '"'  •>«  «■»»  ^'m 

Joo  a  promi.se  never  to  nn  I  • '        """''«'"•'"«  from  tF,„.lo 
him  rise.  '"'"°'"  "V  of  the  Imy  again,  he  let 

"For  shure,"  ho  «!nir?  "»,^  i, 

<•-,  I. bought  LoMh::l-„l';;r "  '^  -  "■->< .-.,  the 

.hou^rhe'r.™  :r':;.^Tr  '"^^^™  *"'■'  ^-j-^'  --^ 
-without  soc^s  rto  ;rT  '^'  '°y 

quire  of  her  what  she  wo„l,l  ,1  !"   ,     ^"-  " •  «o  in- 

dear  enough  they  "re    but  «!        I"  "™  "^-""^  '"'  ""^ 
the  lad  was  barefoo    d'  a^  t  "  "^^^  ""  ^"-^  """''  »'>1 
than  either  to  aeeept  ler  offer  „!     T  "°  °"'"-  '"'™"'«™ 
In  a  few  days  Mo,T  I,      ■'  '  ^'"' '"  «"  *''"'out- 

upon  insplt  f  t?  :  trtr"""  ""^'"  ""''"' ^  ""'  '  '•™"d 
"n- was  rather  too  gh^ttV'T"  °.'1  ^^''^  "'=-*<"'<'• 
With  them,  and  told  h^Srr^'  "  '"f  "^^ 

ren^™::rrdt™-;?;-^^^^ 

so  nmeh  evil  to  the  hd  thnt      ,i     u  '""''  ""'^  "'"''"'I 

common  to  the  natives  of  Ws  'e  '  t  ™P^-"«"-  f-  -^ 
■•-pression  that  .he  ™  "gift  ^^t'^  l^^  "-  ••"<>-  the 
"owld  witeh."  He  never  1^.  t\  '^'^'  """^  ™«  ••"» 
on  and  horses,  but  T  eTt  "  h^e  l^'"^"/'* '"^  ™»- 
'-'  »  ^-^-ed  Irish  blaekgu^S  'nd  tlLntrhTlS 


i 


■I  I 


!■ 


120 


ROUGHING  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


overturn  the  wagon,  kill  the  horses,  and  break  his  own 
worthless  neck. 

"  Ma'arm,"  said  John  to  me  one  day,  after  returning  from 

C with  the  team,  "  it  would  be  betther  for  me  to  lave 

the  masther  intirely ;  for  shure  if  I  do  not,  some  mischief 
will  befall  me  or  the  crathers.  That  wicked  owld  wretch  !  I 
cannot  thole  her  curses.  Shure  it's  in  purgatory  I  am  all  the 
while." 

"  Nonsense,  Monaghan !  you  are  not  a  Catholic,  and  need 
not  fear  purgatory.  Tlic  next  time  the  old  woman  com- 
mences her  reprobate  conduct,  tell  her  to  hold  her  tongue,  and 
mind  her  own  business,  for  curses,  like  chickens,  come  home 
to  roost. 

The  boy  laughed  heartily  at  the  old  Turkish  proverb,  but 
did  not  reckon  much  on  its  efficacy  to  still  the  clamorous 
tongue  of  the  ill-natured  old  jade.  The  next  day  he  had  to 
pass  her  door  with  the  horses.  No  sooner  did  she  hear  the 
sound  of  the  wheels,  than  out  she  hobbled,  ;  I  commenced 
her  usual  anathemas. 

"  Bad  luck  to  yer  croaking,  yer  ill-conditioned  owld  raven. 
It  is  not  me  you  are  desthroying  sure,  but  yer  own  poor  mise- 
rable sinful  sowl.  The  owld  one  has  the  grief  of  ye  already, 
for  '  curses,  like  chickens,  come  home  to  roost ;'  so  get  in  wid 
ye,  and  hatch  them  to  yerself  in  the  chimley  corner.  They'll 
all  be  roosting  wid  ye  by  and  by ;  and  a  nice  warm  nest 
they'll  make  for  you,  considermg  the  brave  brood  that  belongs 
to  you." 

Whether  the  old  woman  was  as  superstitious  as  John,  I 
know  not;  or  whether  she  was  impressed  with  the  moral 
truth  of  the  proverb — for,  as  I  have  before  stated,  she  was  no 
fool — is  difficult  to  tell ;  but  she  shrunk  back  into  her  den, 
and  never  attacked  the  lad  again. 

Poor  John  bore  no  malice  in  his  heart,  not  he  j  for,  in 


JOim  MONAOBAN. 


131 


spite  of  fl^I  the  d  -natured  thirg.  he  had  to  endure  from  Uncle 
Joe  and  his  family,  he  never  attempted  to  return  evU  for  evil, 
fa  proof  of  this,  he  was  one  day  chopping  firewood  in  the  bush, 
a  some  distance  from  Joe,  who  was  engaged  in  the  same  em- 
ployment with  another  man.  A  tree  in  falling  caught  upon 
another,  which,  although  a  very  large  maple,  was  hollow  and 
very  much  decayed,  and  liable  to  be  blown  down  by  the  least 

Undo  Jo  •,•  "^  ''"'  """^  -^''^"'^  --  "•«  P''*  t^ 

Uncle  Joe  was  obliged  to  traverse  daily  with  his  team.    He 

ooked  up,  and  perceived,  from  the  situation  it  occupied,  that 
t  waa  necessary  for  his  own  safety  to  cut  it  down ;  bit  he 

be  a  tenldf  ;r  ^     ^^'^  "  '^'""''  "  J""'  -"'*  might 

hon  w^th  very  serious  consequences.    In  a  careless  tone,  he 
oaUed  to  his  companion  to  cut  down  the  tree 

"Do  it  yourself,  H ,"  said  the  axe  man,  with  a  grin. 

My  wife  and  children  want  their  man  as  much  as  Lr 
Jiannah  waiits  you."  ^ 

"I'll  not  put  axe  to  it,"  quoth  Joe.    Then,  making  signs 

to  h.s  comrade  to  hold  his  tongue,  he  shouted  to  Mo/agh!!^, 

Ho  lo,  boy !   you're  wanted  here  to  cut  down  this  tree. 

fC     rVT  ^^  ^"""^  ^^'^"^'^  ^^"^^  ^^ght  be  killed  if 
they  should  happen  to  pass  under  it,  and  it  should  fall  upon 

hS  ^w  fv^""'  ^"f"'  ^"' '  ^"^  ^^"^  ^^  ^^ttle  would 
have  the  first  chance.     Why  should  I  risk  my  life  and  limbs 

by  cutting  down  the  tree,  when  it  was  yerself  that  threw  it  so 
awkwardly  over  the  other  ?" 

"  Oh,  but  you  are  a  boy,  and  have  no  wife  and  children  to 
depend  upon  you  for  bread,"  said  Joe,  gravely.     « We  are 

d^ttteTP     ^-'^^---^-'ti«yourdut,tocut 

The  lad  swung  the  axe  to  and  fro  in  his  hand,  eyeing  Joe 


'  ill 


123 


ROUGHING  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


and  the  tree  alternately ;  but  the  natural  kind-heartedness  of 
the  creature,  and  his  reckless  courage,  overcame  all  idea  of 
self-preservation,  and  raising  aloft  his  slender  but  muscular 
arm,  he  cried  out,  "  If  it's  a  life  that  must  be  sacrificed,  why 
not  mme  as  well  as  another?  Here  goes!  and  the  Lord 
Have  mercy  on  my  sinful  sowl !" 

The  tree  fell,  and,  contrary  to  their  expectations,  without 
any  mjury  to  Jolm.  ^,  knowing  Yankee  burst  into  a  loud 
laugh.       Well,  If  you  arn't  a  tarnation  soft  fool,  I  never  saw 

fl«  l^^T  \JZ  ""'"'•"  '^'^"^"^^^  J^^"'  "^'^  <3^^k  eyes 
flashing  fire     "  If  'tis  to  insult  me  for  doing  that  which  neither 

of  you  dared  to  do,  you  had  better  not  thry  that  same.  You 
have  just  seen  the  strength  of  my  spirit.  You  had  better  not 
hry  again  the  strength  of  my  arm,  or,  maybe,  you  and  the 
tiee  would  chance  to  share  the  same  fate  j"  and,  shouldering 
his  axe  the  boy  strode  down  the  hill,  to  get  scolded  by  me 
for  his  foolhardiness. 

The  first  week  in  March,  all  the  people  were  busy  making 

T^'m^"''  .       ^°'' '™''  *"''"  "-y  '""Pi''  ^"g""-.  "a'"™  r 

asked  Monaglum,  as  he  sat  feeding  Katie  one  evening  by  the 

"No,  John." 

will"  ^f '  «•"'  T'™  *  ""*''  '°  """^ '  "'«'  i''^  "'ysol''  that 
wiU  make  M.ss  Katie,  the  darlint,  an  iUigant  lump  of  that 

Early  in  the  morning  John  was  up,  hard  at  work,  making 
troughs  for  the  sap.     By  noon  he  had  completed  a  dozer 
which  he  showed  me  with  great  pride  of  heart.     I  felt  a  little 
cur^us  .about  this  far-famed  maple  sugar,  and  asked  a  thou! 

belrrr      r  *'  -'^  *°  ^^^^  "■»  troughs  were  to 
be  applied;  how  .the  trees  were  to  be  tapped,  the  sugar  made, 

and  ifit  were  really  good  when  made? 


JOHN  MONAGEAN.  jgo 

reckoned  on  sLt'tm  a  7"T"'  '^  "^  ''''^»--  ' 
^v-hcn  he  oan^e  Co'  a  ^  /vrdlrift "  "™  "^""^ 
disappointment.  ™'  "''^  **'  P^^^ftUity  of 

set  t^r^Xotrh^f  r ''r  M.^p''--^  ^-'>-.  »^ 

ter  Ammon  IZTT         f '  """  "''"  '^'"''"'^''  ""^  Mas. 
tents  o'f  one  largeC  p  t     u'^  fT'  \"  "™'  ""'  "™- 

never  seemed  to  dimhlh  '^'  P°*'  *"*  *^^  ^P 

"  This  is  a  tedious  piece  of  business  »  flinn^i,^  t  v  . 
the  la^  a..ious,  I  siid  nothin^Tho^^et'^^ 

fi  "'1^'^'"   l",'^  ^'  ^"''^"^^  ^"*«   *^^«  pot,  which  was  half 

fu.x  of  a  very  black-looking  liquid-  «whaf  iT 

pork  ?"  -i^H^^ti,     wnat  do  you  want  with 

;;  Sh-e  an-  'tis  to  keep  the  sugar  from  burning." 

i5ut,  John,  I  see  no  sugar'"  ^ 

-  lumps  of  sugar  ^n  Jt:!^:^:^  ^™  ^ 

-Arnt^^rrcLio^r^t 

sugar.    At  breakfast  I  observed  a  sla  1  „   f  u  """^'^ 

uuservea  a  amall  plate  upon  tlie  table. 


M'* 


if 


1    III    v»mw<imiW^^im!r- 


124 


BOUOEING  IT  IN  TEE  BUSH. 


placed  in  a  very  conspicuous  manner  on  the  tea-tray,  the  bot- 
tom covered  with  a  hard,  black  substance,  which  very  much 
resembled  pitch.     "  What  is  that  dirty-looking  stufF,  John  1" 

"  Shure  an'  'tis  the  maple  sugar." 

"  Can  people  eat  that  ?" 

"  By  dad,  an'  they  can  ;  only  thry  it,  ma'arm." 

"  Why,  'tis  so  hard,  I  cannot  cut  it." 

With  some  difficulty,  and  not  without  cutting  his  finger, 
John  broke  a  piece  off,  and  stuffed  it  in  the  baby's  mouth. 
The  poor  child  made  a  horrible  face,  and  rejected  it  as  if  it 
had  been  poison.  For  my  own  part,  I  never  tasted  any  thing 
more  nauseous.  It  tasted  like  a  compound  of  pork  grease 
and  tobacco  juice.  "  Well,  Monaghan,  if  this  be  maple  sugar, 
I  never  wish  to  taste  any  again." 

"  Och,  bad  luck  to  it !"  said  the  lad,  flinging  it  away,  plate 
and  all.  "  It  would  have  been  first-rate  but  for  the  dirty  pot, 
and  the  blackguard  cmders,  and  its  burning  to  the  bottom  of 

the  pot.     That  owld  hag,  Mrs.  H ,  bewitched  it  with  her 

evil  eye." 

"  She  is  not  so  clever  as  you  think,  John,"  said  I,  laughing. 
"  You  have  forgotten  how  to  make  the  sugar  since  you  left 

D ;  but  let  us  forget  the  maple  sugar,  and  think  of  some- 

thhig  ek;3.    Had  you  not  better  get  old  Mrs.  H to  mend 

that  jacket  ^or  you  ;  it  is  too  ragged." 

"  Ay,  dad !  and  it's  mysel'  is  the  illigant  tailor.     Wasn't  I 
brought  up  to  the  thrade  in  the  Foundling  Hospital  T 
"  And  why  did  you  quit  it  ?" 

*'  Because  it's  a  low,  mane  thrade  for  a  jintleman's  son  ?" 
"  But,  Jolin,  who  told  you  that  you  were  a  gentleman's 
son  ?" 

"  Och !  but  I'm  shure  of  it,  thm.  All  my  propensities  are 
jintale.  I  love  horses,  and  dogs,  and  fine  clothes,  and  money. 
Och !  that  I  was  but  a  jintleman !     I'd  show  them  what  life 


JOHN  MONAOHAN. 


125 


is  intirely,  and  I'd  challenge  Masther  WUliam,  and  have  mv 
revenge  out  of  him  for  the  blows  he  gave  me." 

"You  had  better  mend  your  trowscrs,"  said  I,  giving  him 
a  tador  s  needle  a  pair  of  seissors,  and  some  strong  thread.  , 
Shure,  an  I'll  do  that  same  in  a  braee  of  shakes,"  and 
sittmg  down  upon  a  ricketty  three-legged  stool  of  his  own 
manufactunng,  he  commenced  his  taUoring  by  tearing  off  a 
piece  of  his  trowsers  to  patch  the  elbows  of  his  jacket  And 
this  tnfl.ng  act,  simple  as  it  may  appear,  was  a  perfect  type 
of  the  boy  s  general  conduct,  and  marked  his  progress  through 

WhilA  '"T,  "'"r  ""  ^^-^*h-g;  he  had  no  futurl 
While  he  supplied  stuff  from  the  trowsers  to  repair  the  frac- 
tures  in  the  jacket,  he  never  reflected  that  both  would  be 
required  on  the  morrow.  Poor  John  !  in  his  brief  and  reck- 
ess  career,  how  often  have  I  recalled  that  foolish  act  of  his 
It  now  appears  to  me  that  his  whole  life  was  spent  in  tearing 
ins  trowsers  to  repair  his  jacket. 

In  the  evenmg  John  asked  me  for  a  piece  of  soap. 

What  do  you  want  with  soap,  John  f ' 
"To  wash  my  shirt,  ma'arm.     Shure  an'  I'm  a  baste  to  be 
seen  as  black  as  the  pots.     Sorra  a  shirt  have  I  but  the  one 
bnger''''^''      ''''  my  back  so  long  that  I  can  thole  it  no 

I  looked  at  the  wrists  and  collar  of  the  condemned  ear- 
ment,  which  was  all  of  it  that  John  allowed  to  be  visible. 
Ihey  were  much  m  need  of  soap  and  water 

was'hr'"'  '^'^"''  ^  '"'^^  ^''^'  ^'"  '^'  '""P'  ^"^  ^^«  y«^ 

"  Och,  shure,  an'  I  can  thry.  If  I  soap  it  enough,  and  rub 
long  enough,  the  shirt  must  come  clane  at  last." 

I  thought  the  matter  rather  doubtful ;  but  when  I  went  to 
bed  I  left  what  he  required,  and  soon  saw  through  the  chinks 
m  the  boards  a  roaring  fire,  and  heard  John  whistling  over 


\  :  Hi 


"  ^^^^^'WEwBpBwBfK-*- 


•Gm^S^^t^."'' 


126 


ROUGUma  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


\    i-H 


M' 


the  tub.  He  whistled  and  rubbed,  and  washed  and  scrubbed 
but  as  there  seemed  no  end  to  the  job,  and  he  was  as  long 
washing  this  one  garment  as  Bell  would  have  been  performing 
the  same  operation  on  fifty,  I  laughed  to  myself,  and  thought 
of  my  own  abortive  attempts  in  that  way,  and  went  fast 
asleep.  In  the  morning  John  came  to  his  breakfast,  with  his 
jacket  buttoned  up  to  his  throat. 

"  Could  you  not  dry  your  shirt  by  the  fire,  John?     You 
will  get  cold  wantuig  it." 

^    "Aha,  by  dad !  it's  dhry  enough  now.     The  divil  has  made 
trnder  of  it  long  afore  this." 

"  Wh^.,  what  has  happened  to  it?     I  heard  you  washing 
all  night."  ^ 

"  Washing !     Fa.  ^  an'  I  did  scrub  it  till  my  hands  were 
all  ruined  intirely,  and  thin  I  took  the  brush  to  it;  but  sorra 
a  bit  of  the  dirt  could  I  get  out  of  it.     The  more  I  rubbed  the 
blacker  it  got,  until  I  had  used  up  all  the  soap,  and  the  per- 
spiration was  pouring  off  me  like  rain.     '  You  dirthy  owld  bit 
of  a  blackguard  of  a  rag,'  says  I,  in  an  extremity  of  rage 
you're  not  fit  for  the  back  of  a  dacent  lad  an'  a  jintleman.' 
ihe  divil  may  take  ye  to  cover  one  of  his  imps;',  an'  wid  that 
I  sthirred  up  the  fire,  and  sent  it  plump  into  the  middle  of  the 
blaze." 

"  And  what  will  you  do  for  a  shirt  ?" 

"Faith,  do  as  many  a  betther  man  has  done  afore  me  ao 
widout."  '  ° 

I  looked  up  two  old  shirts  of  my  husband's,  which  John 
received  with  an  ecstacy  of  delight.  He  retired  instantly  to 
the  stable,  but  soon  returned,  with  as  much  of  the  linen  breast 
of  the  garment  displayed  as  his  waistcoat  would  allow  No 
peacock  was  ever  prouder  of  his  tail  than  the  wild  Irish  lad 
was  of  the  old  shirt. 

John  had  been  treated  very  much  like  a  spoiled  child,  and, 


JOHN  UONABBAX.  \m 

like  most  spoiled  children,  he  was  rather  fond  of  having  his 
own  way.  Moodie  had  set  him  to  do  something  which  was 
rather  contrary  to  h,s  own  inclinations;  he  did  not  object  to 

bnt  he  left  the  follow„,g  stave  upon  the  table,  written  in 
pe^cd^ponascrap  of  paper  torn  from  the  back  of  an  old 

"  A  man  alive,  an  ox  may  drive 
Unto  a  spring  jg  w-ell  • 
To  make  Jiim  drink,  aa  ho  may  think 
No  man  can  him  compel.  * 

"John  Monaghan." 


'Ml 


\il 


128 


Rouanma  it  in  tile  bush. 


CHAPTER   IX. 


F  H  CB  B  E    H- 


-,    AND    OUR    SECOND    MOVINO, 


"  She  died  in  early  womanhood, 
Sweet  Bcion  of  a  atem  so  rude ; 
A  child  of  Nature,  free  from  art, 
With  candid  brow  and  open  heart ; 
The  flowers  she  loved  now  gently  wave 
Above  her  low  and  namoleaa  grave." 

TT  was  during  the  month  of  March  that  Uncle  Joe's  eldest 
daughter  Phoebe,  a  very  handsome  girl,  and  the  best  of 
the  family,  fell  s,ck.    I  went  over  to  see  her.     Th,-  poor  nvl 
was  very  depressed,  and  stood  but  a  slight  chance  for  her  iLe' 
being  under  (he  medical  treatment  of  three  or  four  old  wc' 
men,  who  all  recommended  different  treatment  and  admfa- 
istered  different  nostrums.    Seeing  that  the  poor  girl  was 
dangerously  ,11, 1  took  her  mother  aside,  and  begged  her  to 
lose  no  time  m  procuring  proper  medical  advice.    Mrs.  Joe 
istened  to  me  very  sullenly,  and  said  there  was  no  danger; 
that  Phoebe  lud  caught  a  violent  cold  by  going  hot  from  the 
wash-tub  to  feteh  a  pail  of  water  from  the  spring;  that  the 
ne^hbours  knew  the  nature  of  her  complaint,  and  would  soon 

light  of  fever  pamfully  burned,  and  motioned  me  to  com  e  near 
her.^   I  sat  down  by  her,  and  took  her  burning  hand  in  mine. 
I  am  dying,  Mrs.  Moodie,  but  they  won't  believe  me.    I 
wish  you  would  talk  to  mother  to  send  for  the  doctor  » 


PSCE£E  II . 


129 


She  shook  L;L,r°r"f;"  r?''" 

one  thing,  which  1  wish  very  much  to\n       •  T'  '°  "''  ^°" 
Iu.nd  tightly  between  her  ow^     H  ^''^  grasped  my 

her  feverish  cheek  paW    ™Wh^7'"  '""'f  ''^"'^''  »'«' 
they  die  1"  ''  '^'""  ''^'=°™«*'  of  people  when 

"  What  is  a  future  state  2" 

to  God  for  the  actus  do    tie  rH'-  ""'  '"^""'"""^ 
and  need  of  a  Saviour    Zpit     ?*!  "^  '"""'■'"  depravity 

lose  no  time  in  o^ZL^^S^: ^T'^'^'T'^"'  '^ 
atoning  blood  of  Christ        ^'^""^"^  of  her  sms,  through  the 

*eam ;  yet  the  truth  seemed  to  th  „pt  C  attcT  "^  " 

<^n  i^rzx::  '""''^"  "^™^  ^-  ^"- «- 

"  You  must  pray  to  Him  " 

"  Nonsense  !"  said  Mrs  1.,  '"  ^""^  •" 

should  you  troubrl!^^!;/?'     ^"^'"S  '■""■'"•''-     "Why 
die,  I  desire  ™„  not  to  n,         u"!  '"''  "'">'''    ^"-  ^ol 

head.     We  lo^W  '  Low  a  'vt^  "f  "^  '""'''^''^ 
here."  ^""^  ""^  "™g  about  Jesus  Christ 

''Ol".  mother,  don't  speak  so  to  the  lady  I    Do  Mr,  M 
d.e,  tell  me  more  about  God  -.nd  mv  soul    i  „      '  ,      '      °* 
now  that  I  had  a  soul."  ™  ""?  ^O"'-  I  never  knew  untU 

D-ply  compassionating  the  ignorance  of  the  poor  rirl  in 


130 


Rouanma  it  in  the  busk 


spite  of  the  menaces  of  the  heathen  mother — for  she  was  no 
better,  but  rather  Avorse,  seeing  that  the  heathen  worships 
in  ignorance  a  false  God,  while  this  woman  lived  without 
acknowledging  a  God  at  all,  and  therefore  considered  her- 
self free  from  all  moral  restraint— I  bid  Phoebe  good-bye, 
and  promised  to  bring  my  bible,  and  read  to  her  the  next 
day. 

The  gratitude  manifested  by  this  sick  girl  was  such  a  con- 
trast to  the  rudeness  and  brutality  of  the  rest  of  the  family, 
that  I  soon  felt  a  powerful  interest  in  her  fate. 

Tlie  mother  did  not  actually  forbid  me  the  house,  because 
she  saw  that  my  visits  raised  the  drooping  spirits  of  her 
child,  whom  she  fiercely  loved,  and,  to  save  her  life,  would 
cheerfully  have  sacrificed  her  own.  But  she  never  failed  to 
make  all  the  noise  she  could  to  disturb  my  reading  and  con- 
versation with  Phoebe.  She  could  not  be  persuaded  that  her 
daughter  was  really  in  any  danger,  until  the  doctor  told  her 
that  her  case  was  hopeless ;  then  the  grief  of  the  mother  burst 
forth,  and  she  gave  way  to  the  most  frantic  and  impious  com- 
plainings. 

The  rigour  of  the  winter  began  to  abate.  The  beams  of 
the  sun  during  the  day  were  warm  and  penetrating,  and  a  soft 
wind  blew  from  the  south.  I  watched,  from  day  to  day,  the 
snow  disappearing  from  the  earth,  with  indescribable  pleas- 
ure, and  at  length  it  wholly  vanished ;  not  even  a  solitary 
patch  lingered  under  the  shade  of  the  forest  trees ;  but  Uncle 
Joe  gave  no  sign  of  removing  his  family." 

"Does  he  mean  to  stay  all  the  summer?"  thought  I. 
"  Perhaps  he  never  intends  going  at  all.  I  will  ask  him,  the 
next  time  he  comes  to  borrow  whiskey." 

In  the  afternoon  he  walked  in  to  light  his  pipe,  and,  with 
some  anxiety,  I  made  the  inquiry. 

"  Well,  I  guess  we  can't  be  moving  afore  the  end  of  May. 


OUR  SECOND  irovmo. 


181 


,/v  '  *'"' ''°  1""^  ™art  "gin-" 

so  lon^"  ""  "°'  "™^  "^  ^■'"' '"  '^'^'^P'-g  "»  o"'  of  the  hou«, 

houl^'j  w  llTV """ '"'°"'  °"^  •"  yo"-  I'  -  ">y 

iiuuhe  as  long  as  I  choose  to  remain  in  .'f  „«.i 
up  with  it  the  best  way  you  e,""  a^d  I        ■'"'  T ^  •"" 
tune,  he  departed.  "^  '  ' ''"'""""« "  ^""''^^ 

I  had  borne  patiently  the  odiou.,  eribbed-up  place  during 
the  wmter,  but  now  the  hot  weather  was  eom^!  itll"  f 
almost  insupportable,  a,  we  were  obliged  toTv'e  a  Zn 

m  s^f  ir::;;  ■"  r^"  ,*;  r'  °"^  i'™™»-  >  --led 

wood    andrl      '  ""  '  '^  """"g  "^""t  «•»  fields  and 
woods,  and  making  acquaintance  with  every  wild  flower  as  it 

blossomed,  and  in  writn.g  long  letters  to'home  fr   nds   in 
worst  that  God  ever  called  out  of  chaos.     I  can  recall  t„ 

paTfinroMi::::!""'  ^-^ '  -"-^  *-  "■«  -'  «^  ^^  •>- 

Oh !  land  .f  waters,  how  my  spirit  tires, 
m  the  dark  prison  of  thy  boundless  woods  : 

1^0  rura)  charm  poetic  thought  inspire.^, 
I^c  .  ^U9ic  murmurs  in  thy  mighty  floods ; 

?urntV"'  '''  '?"''  *''**  ^°"^P^«^  ^hy  frame, 
Turn  where  we  will,  the  landscape  's  still  the  same. 

The  swampy  margin  of  thy  inland  seas, 

The  eternal  forest  girdling  either  shore, 
Its  belt  of  dark  pines  sighing  in  the  breeze, 

And  rugged  fields,  with  rude  huts  dotted  o'er, 
bhow  cultivation  unimproved  by  art. 
That  sheds  a  barren  chillness  on  the  heart. 

How  many  home-sick  emigrants,  during  their  first  winter 


f.      I 


183 


liOUOHlNG  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


in  Canada,  will  respond  to  tills  gloomy  picture !  Let  them 
wait  a  few  years ;  the  sun  of  hope  will  arise  and  beautify  the 
landscape,  and  they  will  proclaim  the  country  one  of  the  finest 
in  the  world. 

The  middle  of  May  at  length  arrived,  and,  by  the  number 
of  long,  lean  women,  with  handkerchiefs  of  all  colours  tied 
over  their  heads,  who  passed  my  door,  and  swarmed  into 
Mrs.  Joe's  house,  I  rightly  concluded  that  another  young  one 
had  been  added  to  the  tribe ;  and,  shortly  after.  Uncle  Joo 
himself  announced  the  important  fact,  by  putting  his  jolly 
red  face  in  at  the  door,  and  telluig  me,  that  "  his  missus  had 
got  a  chopping  boy ;  and  he  was  right  glad  of  it,  for  he  was 
tired  of  so  many  gals,  and  that  he  should  move  in  a  fortnight, 
if  hi3  woman  did  kindly." 

I  had  been  so  often  disappointed  that  I  paid  very  little 
heed  to  him,  but  this  time  he  kept  his  word. 

The  last  day  of  May,  they  went,  bag  and  baggage,  the 
poor  sick  Phoebe,  who  still  lingered  on,  and  the  new-born  in- 
fant;  and  right  joyfully  I  sent  a  Scotch  girl  (another  Bell, 
whom  I  had  hired  in  lieu  of  her  I  had  lost),  and  Monaghan, 
to  clean  out  the  Aug.  m  stable.  In  a  few  minutes  John  re^ 
turned,  panting  with  indignation. 

"The  house,"  he  said,  "was  more  filthy  than  a  pig-sty." 
But  that  was  not  the  worst  of  it.  Uncle  Joe,  before  he  went, 
had  undermined  the  brick  chimney,  and  let  all  the  water  into 
the  house.  «  Oh,  but  if  he  comes  here  agin,"  he  co^itmued, 
grinding  his  teeth  and  doubling  his  fist,  « I'll  thrash  him  for 
it.  And  thin,  ma'arm,  he  has  girdled  round  all  the  best  graft 
apple-trees,  the  murtherin'  owld  villain,  as  if  it  could  spile  his 
digestion  our  ating  them." 

"  It  would  require  a  strong  stomach  to  digest  apple-trees, 
John;  but  never  mind,  it  can't  be  helped,  and  we  may  be 
very  thankful  that  these  people  are  gone  at  last." 


om  SEBOSD  norma.  133 

John  and  Bell  scrubbed  at  the  ho.,«  all  day,  and  in  tho 

washed  all  the  black,  smoky  wall,  and  boarded  ceiling 
«.d  scrubbed  the  dirty  window-frame.,,  and  poliled  th  fl^- 
spo^^ed  panes  of  glass,  until  th.y  actually  admitted  a  gllpt 
of  the  clear  a,r  and  the  blue  sky.  Sno^-white  fringid  cut 
tarns,  and  a  bed,  with  furniture  to  correspond,  a  carpeted  floor 
andal  „,„,g^^^„^^^^^  ^^  the'hearthstone,  gave  a^ 

a.r  of  comfort  and  cleanliness  to  a  room  which,  o  ,ly  a  fc^T 
hours  before,  had  been  a  loathsome  den  of  filth  and  in.'purt 

strolt'^di^"'"  r"',''™  '""  ™^^  e'-o^^-g.  l-d  -t  » 
strong,  d,sagrecable  odour  almost  deprived  me  of  my  breath 

as  I  entered  the  room.  It  was  unlike  any  thing  I  had  ev t 
sne  t  efbrc  and  turned  me  so  sick  and  Lt  tit  I  had  ^ 
cljng  to  the  door-post  for  support. 

I' Where  does  Uiis  dreadful  smell  come  from?" 
Ihe  guidness  knows,  ma'am  ;  John  and  I  have  searched 

Glancmg  my  eyes  all  round  the  place,  I  spied  what  seemed 
to  me  a  l.ttle  cupboard,  over  the  n.anteUhelf,and  I  tlld Thi 
toseeaf  I  was  right.  n.c  lad  mounted  u^on  a  chl  and 
pulled  open  a  small  door,  but  almost  fell  to  the  ground  wUh 
the  dreadful  stench  which  seemed  to  rush  from  thf  Zet 

;;  What  .s  t,  Joh,:  r  I  cried  from  the  open  door. 
h».l       '■?'"'' I."""'"™'  «  A""!'!    Shure,  I  thought  the  divil 

What  as  rong  perfume  it  has!"  he  contmued,  holdmg  up  ti,e 
beautiful  but  odious  l.ttle  creatjire  by  the  tail. 


1; 


'  !if 


I 


nimriiMiTliii 


134 


JtOTTOmNO  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


jijjiy»li£le  i^idii 


"  By  dad  !  I  know  all  about  it  now.  I  saw  Ned  Layton, 
only  two  days  ago,  crossing  the  field  with  Uncle  Joe,  with  his 
gun  on  his  shoulder,  and  this  wee  bit  baste  in  his  hand.  They 
were  both  laughing  like  sixty.  '  Well,  if  this  does  not  stink 
the  Scotchman  out  of  the  house,'  said  Joe,  *  I'll  be  contint  to 
be  tarred  and  feathered ;'  and  thin  they  both  laughed  untU 
they  stopped  to  draw  breath." 

I  could  hardly  help  laughing  myself;  but  I  begged 
Monaghan  to  convey  the  horrid  creature  away,  and  putting 
some  salt  and  sulphur  into  a  tin  plate,  and  setting  fire  to  it  I 
placed  it  on  the  floor  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  closed 
all  the  doors  for  an  hour,  which  greatly  assisted  in  purifying 
the  house  from  the  skunkification.  Bell  then  washed  out  the 
closet  with  strong  ley,  and  in  a  short  time  no  vestige  re. 
mained  of  the  malicious  trick  that  Uncle  Joe  had  played  off 
upon  us. 

The  next  day,  we  took  possession  of  our  new  mansion,  end 
no  one  was  better  pleased  with  the  change  than  little  Katie 
She  was  now  fifteen  months  old,  and  could  just  begin  to  prat- 
tie,  but  she  dared  not  venture  to  step  alone,  although  she 
would  stand  by  a  chair  all  day,  and  even  climb  upon  it.     She 
crept  from  room  to  room,  feeling  and  admiring  every  thing 
and  talking  to  it  in  her  baby  language.    So  fond  was  the  dear 
child  of  flowers,  that  her  father  used  to  hold  her  up  to  the 
apple-trees,  then  rich  in  their  full  spring  beauty,  that  she 
might  kiss  the  blossoms.     She  would  pat  them  with  her  soft 
white  hands,  murmuring  like  a  bee  among  the  branches.     To 
keep  her  quiet  whilst  I  was  busy,  I  had  only  to  give  her  a 
bunch  of  wild  flowers.    She  would  sit  as  still  as  a  lamb,  look- 
mg  first  at  one  and  then  at  another,  pressing  them  to  her  little 
breast  in  a  sort  of  ecstacy,  as  if  she  comprehended  the  worth 
of  this  most  beautiful  of  God's  gifts  to  man. 

She  was  a  sweet,  lovely  flower  herself,  and  ner  charramg 


OVR  SSCOND  Movma. 


135 


l!|. 


mfant^accs  reconciled  me,  more  than  a,,ght  else,  to  a  weary 
lot.  Was  she  not  purely  British  ?  Did  not  her  soft  blue 
eyes,  and  sunny  curls,  and  bright  rosy  cheeks  for  ever  remind 
me  of  her  Saxon  or.gin,  and  bring  before  me  dear  forms  and 
faces  I  could  never  hope  to  behold  again  i 

re^t^^"?','"'^'"  ^"  ""P'  '"  ""'  "™  '>""'''•  "  d^'"on  of  un. 

swnrm   of  t"  ^'''^"'""  °'  ''  ''"  *"  ^'■"P^  °'  "  -^O""''^- 
swarm  of  m,ce.     They  scampered  over  our  pillows    an,l 

jumped  upon  our  faces,  squeaking  and  eutting^a  thoild 

capers  over  the  floor.    I  never  could  realize  the  Le  value    f 

^Vh,tt,ngtons  mvaluable  cat  until  that  night.     At  first  we 

.  ughed  „ntd  our  sides  ached,  but  in  reality^it  was  no  laug" 

ng  matter.     Mood.e  remembered  that  we  had  left  a  mouse- 

rap  m  the  old    ousc  ;  he  went  and  brought  it  over,  baild", 

and  set  .t  on  the  table  near  the  bed.     During  the  night  no 

kss  than  fourteen  of  the  provoking  vermin  were  captured; 

How  Uncle  JoeWamdy  could  have  allowed  such  a  nuisance 
to  ex  St  aston,shcd  me;  to  sleep  with  these  creatures  con- 
tinually runnmg  over  us  was  impossible  ;  and  they  were  not 
the  only  evils  in  the  shape  of  vermin  we  had  to  contend  with. 
The  old  logs  wh,ch  composed  the  walls  of  the  house  were  full 
of  bugs  and  large  black  ants;  and  the  place,  owing  to  the 
number  of  dogs  that  always  had  slept  under' the  b!d    w  h 
the  ehddrcn,  was  infested  with  fleas.    It  required  the  utmost 
care  to  r,d  the  place  of  these  noisome  and  disgusting  tenZ 
Arriving  m  the  country  in  the  autumn,  we  had  never  expe- 
ru^nccd  any  mconvcnience  from  the  mosquitoes,  but  alter 
the   first  moist,  warm   spring  days,  particularly   after  the 
showers,  these  tormenting  msects  annoyed  us  greatly.     The 
farm,lyuig  m  a  valley  cut  up  with  little  streams  in  every 
direction,  made  us  more  liable   to  thei-  inflictions.     Tho 
hands,  arms,  and  face  of  tho  poor  babe  were  covered  every 


■WP!^«w**»*:-s*^*.; 


136 


RouGEma  IT  m  tee  bush. 


:,! 


iMi^m 


ZZ^  ""'*  '"^  '°^"'  """"f''  ^'^'=''  »«*"  th^^'' »«' 

The  tanks  of  the  Kttle  streams  abounded  with  wUd  straw- 
bernes,  wh.ch  a  though  small,  were  of  a  delicious  flavour. 
Tluther  Bell  and  I,  and  the  baby,  daily  repaired  to  gather  the 
bnght  red  bernes  of  Nature's  own  providmg.  KaL,  y^l 
as  she  was,  was  very  expert  at  helping  herself,  and  we  used  to 
seat  er  in  the  middle  of  a  fine  bed,'whast  ;«  ^L^lZ 
ther  on.    Ileanng  her  talking  very  lovmgly  to  something  in 

^ibgTt'  *m  ^^!"1  r  ''"'*  ''^'^'^^ "-  -'"'» •■»4 

was  a  large  garter^nake  that  she  was  so  affectionately  eo.r^ 
mg    o  her  embrace.    Not  then  aware  that  this  formidable 
lookmg  reptile  was  perfectly  harmless,  I  snatched  theTiSdt 

11  T"u  ""^  '■""  ^*  ^''  '"'"">;  ™™^  stopping  until  I 
gamed  the  house,  and  saw  her  safely  seated  in  her  c^dle 

It  had  been  a  very  late,  cold  spring,  but  the  trees  had  fully 

expanded  mto  leaf,  and  the  forest  world  was  glorious  in  te 

beauty.     Every  patch  of  cleared  land  presented  a  vivid  green 

to  the  eye;  the  brook  brawled  ir>  the  gay  sunshine,  ani  he 

floated  abont  hke  wmged  flowers,  and  feelings  allied  to  poetry 
and  gladness  once  more  pervaded  my  heart.  In  the  eventaff 
we  wandered  through  the  woodland  paths,  beneath  L  g,  w' 
n  g  Canadian  sunset,  and  gathered  rare  specimens  of  strance 
plants  and  flowers.     Every  object  that  m^t  my  eyes  was  net 

on2int!-lTi  """  P-"l--™t«-ent  w'hich  has  Z 
w  \  .       '  '^""  '""'^'''dge,  and  a  love  of  variety 
We  had  commenced  gardening,  too,  and  my  vegetables 

d..  great  credit  to  my  skUl  and  care    and,  when  ?„rth! 

warm  weather  sets  m,  the  rapid  advance  of  v^n  in  d' 

eteir''"''''t     '^«' ™'>-^'»«ng  mnch'ab  ut  faltg 
especially  m  a  ehmate  like  Omada,  Moodie  was  advised  by  a 


^ 


f 

I 


OUR  SECOND  MOVING.  jg^ 

neighbouring  settler  to  farm  hU  f^r^rr. 

vice  seemed  very  reason!^.        ^arm  upon  shares.     This  ad- 

estedly,  and  hI7the  Zn    '  "^  ''  ^'^^  ^^"^^  ^^«^«^-- 

wife)  Ln  worthy  or  hon  7  '"T""'-^'^  ^^  ^^«  ^^  ^is 

well.     But  the  tZ^'^tCtoT.^^'"''  "^^l^^^  ^^^ 
was  anxious  to  eet  rid  of  thJ  T      ,        "^  encroaching  ways, 

Jong  Zrierytrrdt'  n  ^  ^^-""'^ «— -^  ^^t 

formed  the  preludru"  '  '°  ^'^'^'^  "'^''  ««'d"ct 

them  the  land,  the  use  „fT  ,        '    *'"'"^'«  ^"^  '«  «"<! 

the  seed  for  the  eror.  iL  tVI   ""?  ^"^  """"'  ^^  ^" 

Besides  tws,  the,  ':c^z':::i^-  "T  ^""™'- 

own  cows,  pigs,  and  pouH  ■>.     T^         ,  *°  '"'"P  ">«'■■■ 

-ith  which  [hf;  had  noti  tod!"'  ""  °' *''  """'''''• 
use.  For  the  &st  few  wefks  t'vT  "'" -f'  '"^  ""  "™ 
enough;  and  had  th.  ZT:nlI7"Z  ""'  '"''  *'«'»g 
should  have  done  p-.t".:™  but  tl  "f  '  '  '^"^^  "« 
minded,  bold  woman  wL  .'  ,  *''^  "^"^  »  ^arse- 
The,  took  advlnta^'ofus  i'„  e  *  '^  '"  '^""^  '"-''ief. 
— ti,  eommittCtr/eS:^  -'^'  -"  -« 

Offer,  witho^ut  the/al::ulS:~;^^^^^^^ 

can  thoroughly  rely  upon  ,l,e.>  hote^;!  or  tie  m"m"' 

O ,  they  may  impudently  tell  you  t'haT  tt  f '^• 

you  as  they  please,  and  defv  you  JT,  ^  '*"  *'"' 

.noney  we  spent  oL  the  far^  ^^  Lf^  ^  C"-'^'  A"  «.« 
benefit,  for  by  their  joint  contrivan  e  t^  ..f  I"  r'  »' 
fell  U,  our  share ;  and  when  anv  A-  ^  '"'"P^ 

always  when  Mooie  was  aWn"  fromT"  ™'  ""^'''  "  ""^ 

«o  person  present  to  see  Pl  p  ay     ^eT '  .r^K""""  ""^ 

laix-  piay.     ihey  sold  what  apples 


Hi: 


Ill  I 


138 


HOUGHING  IT  m  THE  BUSH. 


and  potatoes  they  pleased,  and  fed  their  hogs  ad  libitum. 

But  even  their  roguery  was  more  tolerable  than  the  irksome 

restraint  which  their  near  vicinity,  and  consequently  having 

to  come  in  contact  with  them,  imposed.     We  had  no  longer 

any  privacy,  our  servants  were   cross-questioned,  and   our 

fiimily  affairs  canvassed  by  these  gossiping  people,  who  spread 

about  a  thousand  falsehoods  regarding  us.     I  was  so  much 

disgusted  with  this  shareship,  th-^t  I  would  gladly  have  given 

them  all  the  proceeds  of  the  farm  to  get  rid  of  them,  but  the 

bargain  was  for  twelve  months,  and  bad  as  it  was.  we  could 

not  break  our  engagement. 

One  little  trick  of  this  woman's  will  serve  to  illustrate  her 
general  conduct.  A  neighbouring  farmer's  wife  had  presented 
me  with  some  very  pretty  hens,  who  followed  to  the  call  of 
old  Betty  Fye's  handsome  game-cock.  I  was  always  fond 
of  fowls,  and  the  innocent  Katie  delighted  in  her  chicks,  and 
would  call  them  round  her  to  the  sill  of  the  door  to  feed  from 

her  hand.     Mrs.  O had  the  same  number  as  I  had,  and  I 

often  admired  them  when  marshalled  forth  by  her  splendid 
black  rooster.  One  morning  I  saw  her  eldest  son  chop  off  the 
head  of  the  fine  bird ;  and  I  asked  his  mother  why  she  had 
allowed  him  to  kill  the  beautiful  creature.  She  laughed,  and 
merely  replied  that  she  wanted  it  for  the  pot.  The  next  day 
my  sultan  walked  over  to  the  widowed  hens,  and  took  all  his 
seraglio  with  him.  From  that  hour  I  never  gathered  a  single 
egg ;  the  hens  deposited  all  their  eggs  in  Mrs.  O 's  hen- 
house. She  used  to  boast  of  this  as  an  excellent  joke  among 
her  neighbours. 

On  the  9th  of  June  my  dear  little  Agnes  was  born  A 
few  days  after  this  joyful  event,  I  heard  a  great  bustle  in  the 
room  adjoining  to  mine,  and  old  Dolly  Rowe,  my  Cornish 
nurse,  informed  me  that  it  was  occasioned  by  the  people  who 
came  to  attend  the  funeral  of  Phoebe  H .     She  only  sur- 


OUB  SECOND  UOVmO.  jjq 

vivcd  the  removal  of  the  family  a, -eek;  and  at  her  own 
r  quos    had  been  brought  all  the  way  from  the  __  ,Z 

tXl  tr""''  '■"  '  ^  ''"-•^'"S-g-nd  o»  the  hill  whiel 
overloolicd  the  stream. 

As  I  lay  upon  my  pillow  1  eould  distinetly  see  the  snot 

bank   of  the  brook.     It  was  a  solemn  and  imposing  specfaele 
that  humble  funeml      tl/i,™  ^i,  °  ^p<.>-iat]o, 

enclosure  t ,»     Z  "^"8°""  '■°'"^'><"1  '^e  rude 

enclosure,  the  eoffin  was  earefully  lifted  to  the  ground  the  door 

Poor  Phoebe  !     Gentle  ehild,  of  eoarse,  unfeeling  parents 
few  shed  more  sincerely  a  tear  for  thy  ^arly  fate  tnn  the 

beside  that  humble  mound,  when  the  song  of  the  lark  was 

that  It  was  well  for  thee  that  God  opened  the  eyes  of  thy  soul 
and  called  thee  out  of  the  darkness  of  ignoran'^^e  and  sin   to 

smoe  I  heard  any  thmg  of  the  family,  or  what  had  become  of 
torn  when  I  was  told  by  a  neighbour  of  theirs,  whom  I  ace 
dentally  met  last  winter,  that  the  old  woman,  wio  now  neX 
numbers  a  hundred  years,  is  still  living,  and  inhabits  a  coZ 
of  her  son's  ban>,  as  she  still  ,uar,-ols  too  much  with  his  wife 
tores,dew.th  Joe;  that  the  girls  are  all  married  and  2 
and  that  Joe  himself,  although  he  does  not  know  a  lettef  has 

existence  of  miracles  m  the  nmeteenth  century  ? 


m 


140 


EOUGHING-  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


CHAPTEE  X. 


■im- 


r^r 


ihji 

til  I 

ll 

:!■': 

1  j    i 

■ 

1  i 

BRIAN,    THE    STILL-HUNTER. 

TT  was  early  day.  I  was  alone  in  the  old  shanty,  preparing 
-*-  breakfast  and  now  and  then  stirring  the  cradle  with  my 
foot,  when  a  tall,  thin,  middle-aged  man  walked  into  the  house, 
followed  by  two  lar^e,  strong  dogs. 

Placing  the  rifle  he  had  carried  on  his  shoulder,  in  a  comer 
of  the  room,  he  advanced  to  the  hearth,  and  without  speaking, 
or  seemingly  looking  at  me,  lighted  his  pipe,  and  commenced 
smoking.  The  dogs,  after  growling  and  snapping  at  the  cat, 
who  had  not  given  the  strangers  a  very  courteous  reception, 
sat  down  on  the  hearth-stone  on  either  side  of  their  taciturn 
master,  eyeing  him  from  time  to  time,  as  if  long  habit  had 
made  them  understand  all  his  motions.  There  was  a  g  -eat 
contrast  between  the  dogs.  The  one  was  a  brindled  bulldog 
of  the  largest  size,  a  most  formidable  and  powerful  brute ;  the 
other  a  staghound,  tawny,  deep-chested,  and  strong-limbed. 
I  regarded  the  man  and  his  hairy  companions  with  silent 
curiosity. 

He  was  between  forty  and  fifty  years  of  age ;  his  head, 
nearly  bald,  was  studded  at  the  sides  with  strong,  coarse, 
black  curling  hair.  His  features  were  high,  his  <  complexion 
brightly  dark,  and  his  eyes,  in  size,  shape,  and  colour,  greatly 
resembled  the  eyes  of  a  hawk.  The  face  itself  was  sorrowful 
and  taciturn  ;  and  his  thin,  compressed  lips  looked  as  if  they 
were  not  much  accustomed  to  smUe,  or  often  to  unclose  to 


1 
I 


SBIAN,  THE  STILI^BUSTEB.  m 

hold  social  communion  with  any  one.    He  stood  at  the  .ide 
of  the  huge  hearth  sUently  smolcing,  his  eyes  bent  on  the  fire, 
and  nov.  and  then  he  patted  the  heads  of  his  dogs,  reproving 
*e,r  exuberant  expressions  of  attachment,  with-"  Down 
Musie;  down.  Chance!"  ' 

attention  and  draw  h.m  into  conversation 

fiv.™  "°^'7'*°"'  ^^'-g  hi^  head,  or  withdrawing  his  eyes 
from  the  fire,  was  h,s  only  answer;  and,  turning  from  mv 
unsocable  guest,  I  took  up  the  baby,  who  just  the/awoke,It 
down  on  a  low  stool  by  the  table,  and  began  feeding  her 

ifaJf  I  T™"™' '  ""^«  °'  '^'^  -g' '  the  stranger's 
nawk-eye  fixed  upon  me  and  the  child,  but  word  spok!  he 
none  ;  and  presently,  after  whistling  to  his  dogs,  he  resumed 
his  gun,  and  strode  out.  e^^umea 

When  Moodie  and  Monaghan  eame  in  to  breakfast,  I  told 
^em  what  a  strange  visitor  I  had  had ;  and  Moodie  llughed 
at  my  vain  attempt  to  induce  him  to  tal't  ^ 

^vhl  t  i's!"'  ''"''"'^"  ''"*•"  '  ""'' '  "  '  ■»''^'  "^^  »"'  ^h"  ---^ 

In  the  afternoon  an  old  soldier,  called.  Layton  who  had 

served  during  the  American  war,  and  got  a  grant  of  land 

no  ol  ,f  J'     f  ^^'""  ™'  *  ^'''^'  ^ffi^" '  »  ™™  whom 
no  one  liked,  and  whom  all  feared.     He  was  a  deep  drinke^ 

tavatcd  his  land,  but  went  jobbing  about  from  farm  to  farm 
trading  horses  and  cattle,  and  cheating  in  a  pettifogging  way 
Uncle  Joe  had  employed  him  to  sell  Moodie  a  yoSg  ITfer' 

m  to  be  paid,  I  described  the  stranger  of  the  morning  ■  and  as 
I  knew  that  he  was  familiar  with  every  one  in  the  nekbour 
hood,  I  asked  if  he  knew  him.  ueignnour. 


ir 


■  t; 


I 


V. 


143 


ROnontNG  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


]    '<  |5 


/ .  !;.  \ 


^  "  No  one  should  know  him  better  than  myself,"  he  said ; 

"  'tis  old  Brian  B ,  the  still-hunter,  and  a  near  neighbour 

of  your'n.     A  sour,  morose,  queer  chap  he  is,  and  as  mad  as 
a  March  hare  !     He's  from  Lancashire,  in  England,  and  came 
to  this  country  some  twenty  years  ago,  with  his  wife,  who. 
was  a  pretty  young  lass  in  those  days,  and  slim  enough  then, 
though  she's  so  awful  fleshy  now.     He  had  lots  of  money, 
too,  and  he  bought  four  hundred  acres  of  land,  just  at  the  cor' 
ner  of  the  concession  line,  where  it  meets  the  main  road. 
And  excellent  land  it  is;  and  a  better  farmer,  while  he  stuck 
to  his  business,  never  went  into  the  bush,  for  it  was  all  bush 
here  then.     He  was  a  dashing,  handsome  fellow,  too,  and  did 
not  hoard  the  money  either;  he  loved  his  pipe  and  his  pot 
too  well ;  and  at  last  he  left  off  farming,  and  gave  himseF  to 
them  altogether.     Many  a  jolly  booze  he  and  I  have  had,  I 
can  tell  you.     Brian  was  an  awful  passionate  man,  and,  Avhen 
the  liquor  was  in,  and  the  wit  was  out,  as  savage  and  as  quar- 
relsome  as  a  bear.     At  such  times  there  was  no  one  but  Ned 
Layton  dared  go  near  him.     We  once  had  a  pitched  battle, 
in  which  I  was  conqueror ;  and  ever  arter  he  yielded  a  sort 
of  sulky  obedience  to  all  I  said  to  him.     Arter  being  on  the 
spree  for  a  week  or  two,  he  would  take  fits  of  remorse,  and 
return  home  to  his  wife ;    would  fall  down   at  her  knees, 
and  ask  her  forgiveness,  and  cry  like  a  child.     At  other 
times   he  would  hide  himself  up  in  the  woods,  and  steal 
home  at  night,  and  get  what  he  wanted  out  of  the  pantry, 
without  speaking  a   word   to  any  one.     He  went  on  with 
these  pranks  for  some  years,  till  he  took  a  fit  of  the  blue 
devils. 

"  '  Come  away,  Ned,  to  the  — lake,  with  me,'  said 

he ;  '  I  am  weary  of  my  life,  and  I  -  ant  a  change.' 

"'Shall  we  take  the  fishing-tackle?'  says  I.  'The  black 
bass  are  in  prime  season,  and  F will  lend  us  the  old 


Ji      HI 


ssuN,  TUE  STiLi-nmrrES.  143 

feh  dl  ,lf "''  Tr""'  ""P'*"'  '"""  "P  '■™"'  Kingston.    We'll 
toh  all  day,  and  have  a  spree  at  night  •  •     "eu 

;;;if»  not  .0  fish  I'm  going,' says  hi. 

To  shoot,  then  ?    I've  bought  Roekwood's  new  rifle  • 

pamon  never  opened  his  lips,     h!  strode  of  befoteTe  at"!' 
half  run  never  once  turning  his  head.  ''  "  * 

■Ihe  man  must  bo  the  devil  I' savs  7  '  o,,,! 
a  ^^er^plaee,  or  he  must  feel' t^  '^^.^Z^Z 
tnere!     -Do  you  mean  to  kill  me '?'  ^ 

thisllpve  V- '''^''  "T  ^''  '^'""'"  «^^  another  day  arter 
thieve  busmess  on  hand,  and  cannot  wait.'  ^ 

Well,  on  we  went,  at  the  same  awful  rate   an.!  \, .       • 

ner,  and  a  glass  of  rum  to  ItTaoZ      Z'b  ^''^  ""■ 

a^fe.  mantes  arter  .e  sa.  .m  er^osS;^ie"lat:r;;l  ^d^ 
What's  the  matter  with  Brian  V  says  F •  ^  „ii  ^ 

:sror:;e:::^^-^- ^°-- ---''--: 

not  fmprove.'  -«l™intance  altogether  if  he  doe. 

" '  He  drinks  awful  hard,'  says  F-_ ;  ■  may  be  he's  got 


^ 


144 


ROUGHlNa  IT  IN  THE  BUSU. 


I  ( 


There  is  no  telling  what  he 


a  fit  of  the  delirium-tremulous. 
may  be  up  to  at  this  minute.' 

"  My  mind  misgave  me  too,  so  I  e'en  takes  the  oars,  and 
pushes  out,  right  upon  Brian's  track  ;  and,  by  the  Lord  Karry ! 
if  I  did  not  find  him,  upon  my  landing  upon  the  opposite 
shore,  lying  wallowing  in  his  blood,  with  his  throat  cut.  '  Is 
that  you,  Brian  V  says  I,  giving  him  a  kick  with  ray  foot,  to 
see  if  he  was  alive  or  dead.     '  What  upon  earth  tempted  you 

to  play  me  and  F such  a  dirty,  mean  trick,  as  to  go  and 

stick  yourself  like  a  pig,  bringing  such  a  discredit  upon  the 
house  ? — and  you  so  far  from  home  and  those  who  should 
nurse  you.' 

"I  was  so  mad  with  him,  that  (saving  your  f>resence, 
ma'am)  I  swore  awfully,  and  called  him  names  that  would  be 
ondacent  to  repeat  here ;  but  he  only  answered  with  groans 
and  a  horrid  gurgling  in  his  throat.  '  It's  choking  you  are,' 
said  I ;  'but  you  sha'n't  have  your  own  way,  and  die  so  easily 
either,  if  I  can  punish  you  by  keeping  you  alive.'  So  I  just 
turned  him  upon  his  stomach,  with  his  head  down  the  steep 
bank;  but  he  still  kept  choking  and  growing  black  in  the 
face." 

Layton  then  detailed  some  particulars  of  his  surgical  prac- 
tice which  it  is  not  necessary  to  repeat.     He  continued, 

"  I  bound  up  his  throat  with  my  handkerchief,  and  took 
him  neck  and  heels,  and  threw  him  into  the  bottom  of  the 
boat.  Presently  he  came  to  himself  a  little,  and  sat  up  in  the 
boat;  and — would  you  believe  it? — made  several  attempts 
to  throw  himself  into  the  water.  'This  will  not  do,'  says  I; 
*  you've  done  mischief  enough  already  by  cutting  your  wea- 
sand !  If  you  dare  to  try  that  again,  I  will  kill  you  with  the  oar.' 
I  held  it  up  to  threaten  him ;  he  was  scared,  and  lay  down  as 
quiet  as  a  lamb.  I  put  my  foot  upon  his  breast.  *  Lie  still, 
now!  or  you'll  catch  it.'    He  looked  piteously  at  me;  he 


nRIA2^^   THE  STILL-nUNTER,  145 

could  not  speak,  but  his  eyes   seemed  to  say,   '  Have  nitv 

upon  me,  Ned ;  don't  kill  me.'  ^  ^  ^ 

"Yes,  ma'am;  this  man,  who  had  just  cut  his  throat  and 

Should  knock  him  on  the  head   and  kill  him      Ha '  ha  f  r 

arur  i  got  him  up  to  tho  house.' 

"  The  doctor  came,  and  «wed  up  his  throat ;  and  his  mfa 
-poor  c„ttur!_came  to  nurse  him.     Bad  as  he  wL  !Ie 
was  mortal  fond  of  him !    He  lay  there,  sick  and  unaWe  to 
leave  h,s  bed  for  three  months,  and  did  nothing  but  pray  to 
God  to  forgive  him,  for  he  thought  the  devil  would  surely 
have  h.m  for  cutting  his  own  throat;  and  when  he  -ot  abol^ 
agam  wh^ch  is  now  twelve  years  ag'o,  he  loft  oV  din  ii'  ! 
t,rely  and  wanders  about  tho  woods  with  his  dogs,  hunting. 
He  seldom  speaks  to  any  one,  and  his  wife's  brofcr  carriS 
on  the  farm  for  the  family.    He  is  so  >,h^  „f   .  ^ 

'♦;»  .  _     J     ■  .?•    Jie  IS  so  shy  ot  strangers  that 

t.s  a  wonder  he  came  in  here.    The  old  wives  are  Lid  of 
bm;  but  you  need  not  heed  hi...._his  troubles  are  to  him 
self,  he  harms  no  one." 

whi^hCLdT;?''  "",.''"■'  "■"  ''"^''"^  °™'  '"^  ^  tale 
which  he  had  told  n>  such  an  absurd  and  jestu«  mamier     It 

at  smcde,  that  the  hapless  hunter  was  not  wholly  answerable 
for  h,s  conduct-that  he  was  a  harmless  maniac 

The  next  morning,  at  the  very  same  hou^,  Brian  again 

™ade  h>s  appearance ;  but  mstead  of  the  rifle  ao  oss  his  sruT 
der  a  ,„     ,^     j,,  „^^^.^  ^^^  ^s  shoul- 

leather  thong.    Without  saying  .  word,  but  with  a  fr^y  bl 

tor^v  iTd  he    f  "  7''=''"  '■•"""'"S  fro"'  ben-th  a 
jar,  set  .t  down  Wore  me,  and  in  a  low  and  g,^fl;  but  by  1 


¥'  ' 


ij 


140 


nouaiuxo  it  av  the  nn^m 


moons  ftn  unfriendly  voico,  said,  "Milk,  f..r  tho  diil.l,"'  .ni-l 
vaiiishod. 

"  Uow  good  it  was  of  liliii !  How  kind  !"  I  oxchiimod,  a3 
1  poured  tho  precious  gift  of  f^ur  (piarts  of  pure  now  milk  out 
into  a  deep  pan.  I  had  not  asked  him— had  never  said  that 
tho  poor  weanling  wanted  milk.'  It  was  the  courtesy  of  a 
gontlemnn — of  a  man  of  benevolence  and  refinement. 

For  weeks  did  my  strange,  silent  friend  steal  in,  take  up 
the  empty  jar,  and  siit>ply  its  place  with  mother  rej)lenishcd 
with  milk.  ITie  bahj  knc-v  his  step,  and  would  hold  out  lier 
hands  to  him  and  cry  "Milk!"  and  Brian  ^vould  stoop  down 
and  kiss  her,  and  his  two  great  dogs  lick  her  face. 

"  Have  you  any  children,  Mr.  \\ ]" 

"Yes,  five;  but  none  like  this." 

"My  little  girl  is  greatly  indebted  to  you  for  your  kind 
noss." 

"  She's  welcome,  or  she  would  not  get  it.  You  arc  stran- 
gers ;  but  I  like  you  all.  You  look  kind,  and  I  would  like  to 
know  more  about  you." 

Moodio  shook  hands  with  the  old  hunter,  and  assured  him 
that  we  should  always  be  glad  to  see  him.  After  this  invita- 
tion, Brian  became  a  frequent  guest.  He  would  sit  and  listen 
with  delight  to  Moodie  while  he  described  to  him  elephant- 
hunting  at  the  Cape;  grasping  his  rifle  in  a  determined  man- 
ner, and  whistling  an  encouraging  air  to  his  dogs.  I  asked 
him  one  evening  what  made  him  so  fond  of  hunting. 

"  'Tis  the  excitement,"  he  said ;  "  it  drowns  thought,  and  I 
love  to  be  alone.  I  am  sorry  for  tho  creatures,  too,  for  they 
are  free  and  happy ;  yet  I  am  led  by  an  instinct  I  cannot  re- 
strain  to  kill  them.  Sometimes  the  sight  of  their  dying 
agonies  recalls  painful  feelings ;  and  then  I  lay  aside  the  gun, 
and  do  not  hunt  for  days.  But  'tis  fine  to  be  alone  with  God 
in  the  great  woods— to  watch  tho  sunbeams  stealing  through 


.1,  J 


•'H'il 


slave  to  low  Vico-    niKl    in     ..7        .  '    '       """^   ^"^^''"^^   ^^0 

.-c  hateful  t,::-^: ;, ;:,  :;'r';;7' "  ■  ■"^■^"^  «■-" 

trniisgrcsscrl  God's  h,>ly  Jawa  •  „11  n,      •  ,.i.  '"'''  ' 

and  must  have  told  you  W  ;'    '''   ^'f,'''':""  ."^'-^  ". 

4ph-es  th?r:  „„  th  :i"i  Kir  r™'  '•'■  ™^ " 

cursed  whiskey  bottle  "  '  renounced  tho 

~  ereatn.  in  the  .o^MT^t!!    ^"Jl  ^  ."i::: 

Xr'tiir'^r;'  '  "'  '^°^™  -Pon  a  fallen":  'to  IT 
All  was  st,ll  as  death  around  me,  and  I  was  fast  sinkinrto 

deep,  when  my  attention  was  aroused  by  a  Ion,.  wlH  ivr 

dog,  for  I  had  not  Chanee  then,  and  he'f  no  h^  pScd  ^ 

™,  r,    ,    """  "'  ™^"^™S  -•'•"  ''  tark  of  defi^ee  ho 
cxouch^d  down,  trombltog,  at  my  feet     'What  do!  Iht 


«"*'''"!'"iiiqiiiiiiii'iiii  ■!  m  iiii,a,.gi,>»L 


ii 


B!f 


liiiifif  I 


:'     Ii 


148 


ROUGHING  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


mean  V  I  cried,  and  I  cocked  my  rifle  and  sprang  upon  the 
log.  Tlie  sound  came  nearer  upon  the  wind.  It  was  like  the 
deep  baying  of  a  pack  of  hounds  in  full  cry.  Presently  a 
noble  deer  rushed  past  me,  and  fest  upon  his  trail — I  see 
them  now,  like  so  many  black  devils — swept  by  a  pack  of  ten 
or  fifteen  large,  fierce  wolves,  with  fiery  eyes  and  bristling 
hair,  and  paws  that  seemed  hardly  to  touch  the  ground  in 
their  eager  haste.  I  thought  not  of  danger,  for,  with  their 
prey  in  view,  I  was  safe ;  but  I  felt  every  nerve  within  me 
tremble  for  the  fate  of  the  poor  deer.  The  wolves  gained 
upon  hun  at  every  bound.  A  close  thicket  intercepted  his 
path,  and,  rendered  desperate,  he  turned  at  bay.  His  nostrils 
were  dilated,  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  send  forth  long  streams 
of  light.  It  was  wonderful  to  witness  the  courage  of  the 
beast.  How  bravely  he  repelled  the  attacks  of  his  deadly 
enemies,  how  gallantly  he  tossed  them  to  the  right  and  left, 
and  spurned  them  from  beneath  his  hoofs ;  yet  all  his  strug- 
gles  were  useless,  and  he  was  quickly  overcome  and  torn  to 
pieces  by  his  ravenous  foes.  At  that  moment  he  seemed 
more  unfortunate  even  than  myself,  for  I  could  not  see  in 
what  manner  he  had  deserved  his  fate.  All  his  speed  and 
energy,  his  courage  and  fortitude,  had  been  exerted  in  vain. 
I  had  t-ied  to  destroy  myself;  but  he,  with  every  effort 
vigorously  made  for  self-preservation,  was  doomed  to  meet 
the  fate  he  dreaded  !     Is  God  just  to  his  creatures  V 

With  this  sentence  on  his  lips,  he  started  abruptly  from  his 
seat  and  left  the  house. 

One  day  he  found  me  paintuig  some  wild  flowers,  and  was 
greatly  interested  m  watching  tho  progress  I  made  in  the 
group.  Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day  he  brought 
me  a  large  bunch  of  splendid  spring  flowers. 

" Draw  these,"  said  he ;  "I  have  been  all  the  way  to  the 
• lake  plains  to  find  them  for  you." 


1 
f 


m 


BRIAN,  TUB  STILL-HUNTER. 


-«.-.,,  ^xij,  auLL-HUNTER.  j^g 


it 


wild  beasts  of  the  ^od  »L  1  '  "^  *"  *''''  ""'^  "•« 

ever  see  them%    nl    7.  ^       '  '"'"=''  *>">*  "™  "Pon  'hem, 

creatu::,^:  flow  ::f  i^rf ' '°^''''' ^'^^™^'' °^  ^ 

admiration  of  aniZklV^  H'^bonevolcnce  gratified  by  the 
as  having  neithorfttl.  '''  »""  '"^^"  ""'«'"  '»  --i^or 
in  the  rorest:t:eti:;Ufer:"  '    ""'^  '  '^  -"« 

acti^rirrgroTttr?™^  rv^  -"'- 

conversation  by  askiL  hL     ,  \         ""^''''Jy.  I  turned  the 
Chanee  ?  ^         ®      "^  ""''^  ""^  """^'^  ^is  favourite  dog 

shape  of  his  head  undetived 'me     t  o^  T  '  ™"^  '"'  *'' 
called  him  to  me     TT»T         ,     ,     P'"""'  "^  ™"^'.  and 

his  tail  at  every  slp^^dlool"'^'  ^'""""^  ""''  ™S^'-"S 
I  offered  him  I  Wf  J  f  •  T  '®  ""'  "'"'"">'  »  'he  face, 
friendly,  and  foLweVi t  ™"r'  ""'  ""^  ^-"^  '^--"« 
I  called  him  ^Zc^Z^T'  ™'  *"'  '''^^'-  ^^'^  ""  ^■■"»«- 

-  -ouM  ^Scftrh^^r— ^"ir.  --  -= 
coi";f:^:.X't-^-;-^^ 


m 


H^      t  i 


M 


150 


EOUQUmO  IT  IN  THE  BU^IL 


*'I  would  have  restored  the  sheep  fourfold," he  said,  "if  ho 
woidd  but  have  spared  tlie  life  of  my  dog." 

My  recollections  of  Brian  seem  raorc^  particularly  to  con- 
centrate m  the  adventures  of  one  night,  when  I  happened  to 
he  left  alone,  for  the  first  time  since  my  arrival  in   Canada. 
1  cannot  now  imagine  how  I  could  have  been  such  a  fool  as  to 
give  way  for  four-and-twenty  hours  to  such  childish  fears ;  but 
so  It  was,  and  I  >vill  not  disguise  my  weakness  from  my  indul- 
gent reader.     Moodie  had  bought  a  very  fuie  cow  of  a  black 
man,  named  Mollineux,  for  which  he  was  to  give  twentv- 
seven  dollars.     The  man  lived  twelve  miles  back  in  the  woods  • 
and  one  fine,  frosty  spring  day-(don't  smile  at  the  term 
trosty,  thus  connected  with  the  genial  season  of  the  year  •  the 
term  IS  perfectly  correct  when  applied  to  the  Canadian  spring 
which,  until  the  middle  of  May,  is  the  most  dismal  season  of 
the  year)_he  and  John  Monaghan  took  a  rope,  and  the  dog 
and  sallied  forth  to  fetch  the  cow  home.     Moodie  said  that 
they  should   be  back  by   six   o'clock  m   ih3   evening,  and 
charged  me  to  have  something  cooked,  for  supper  when  they 
returned,  as  he  doubted  not  their  long  walk  in  the  sharp  air 
would  give  them  a  good  appetite.     This  was  during  the  time 

that  I  was  without  a  servant,  and  Hving  in  dd  Mrs. -'g 

slianty. 

ITie  day  was  so  bright  and  clear,  and  Katie  was'so  full  of 
frolic  and  play,  rolling  upon  the  floor,  or  toddling  from  chair 
to  chair,  that  the  day  passed  on  without  my  feeling  remarkably 
lonely.  At  length  the  evening  drew  nigh,  and  I  began  to 
expect  my  husband's  return,  and  to  think  of  the  supper  that  I 
was  to  prepare  for  his  reception.  The  red  heifer  that  we  had 
bought  of  Layton,  came  lowing  to  the  door  to  be  milked  •  but 
I  did  not  know  liow  to  milk  in  those  days,  and,  besides' this 
I  was  terribly  afraid  of  cattle.  Yet,  a.  I  knew  that  milk 
would  be  required  for  the  tea,  I  ran  across  the  meadow  to 


Mrs.  Joe,  and  begged  that 


^lilAN,   TUB  STILL-UUNTER. 


151 


one  of  her  girls  would  bo  so  k 


as  to  milk  for  m,.      w  ^       ' 

;"^  i^^  me.     My  request  was  greeted 
of  laughter  from  the  whole  set 


ind 
with  a  rude  burst 


\\g\ 


you 


UM  learn     My  g.rfs  arc  above  being  helps  " 
^^^^^wouM„otas.,oub.asagreatrav::r,U„.an.aM 

^^^7L^'  '''''  *^  --"!    A  fanner. 

~/:"r.  7:;Lt:t  r  r  ^—  =  -^'  ■•■'<"»- 

all  borrowed  so  „„ch  X  LI"       u  "ij^'t' "'™  ""^^- '"«' 
and  returned  home.  '  ' "'"  '"hospitable  door, 

After  many  ineffeotual  attemnt^  r  ,   . 

boro  my  half.pail  of  mUk  ift' W*  to  th"  .     "'  '"''  ™^ 
folt  prouder  of  that  mill,  ,,        "f*"  '°  *<'  house.     Yes!  I 

thing  ho  ever  wlte  X  h  rt  ""^  ""  ™"'°^  "'"  *''»  "^-^ 
doubly  sweet  .hen  I'el  Sd  Ted  'i:  U  T  ^^'^  "^  ''  -- 
l^eing  under  any  obhW  on  To  •!,  ^"'''"""■'=''  '''«''*out 
W  learned  a  usrf^l  £  ,  ofl?  i""'"™'  '"'*^'"^°'"-^-  ' 
joar.,  I  had  often  again  tT ret    '"'"™"'  *"  *'"''''' '"  ''"- 

for '»!  blf^h?;:!,:: '"/:  'f'  -""^^  «■»  '■"'  -^« 

slices,  L  the  pan  ready  to  clrl'"  "^  "''"''  ™''  »  •"^ 
enter  the  .noL^^C:^^  t  t^^  '  ''\'''  "^ 
lous  care  and  neatness      A     i    •  '^''"'  ^^^  ««runu. 

hearth,  and  everTt'; -^  J^^Z  ""'"'  ""  "'" 
U^gan  to  look  out  anxiously  for  tlir  arri™?      "''""'  ""'  ' 

the  door.     Bringing  f„  as  "l!,  wT  *f '."  ''^'  ^"'"^  «-" 
.no  for  several  Uo.Jl  e Wd   LT    "'  '  *"'«'"  ^™""  '-' 

h.  n.^  life  I  found  4  If  ^  ,S,  r"'  f'"  '""  """  "''^^  '""« 

■^     '  at  night  ,n  a  house  entirely  alone. 


'  i-'li'riiiiwinii. 


152 


HOUGHim  IT  IN  TEE  BUSff. 


m 


il 


Then  I  began  to  ask  myself  a  thousand  torturing  questions  m 
to  the  reason  of  their  unusual  absence.     Had  they  lost  their 
way  m  the  woods?     Could  they  have  fallen  in  with  wolves 
(one  of  my  early  bugbears)  ?     Could  any  fatal  accident  have 
befallen  them?     I  started  up,  opened  the  door,  held  my 
breath  and  listened.     The  little  brook  lifted  up  its  voice  ia 
Joud,  hoarse  wailing,  or  mocked,  in  its  babbling  to  the  stones 
the  sound  of  human  voices.     As  it  became  later,  my  fears  in! 
creased  m  proportion.     I  grew  too  superstitious  and  nervous 
to  keep  the  door  open.     I  not  only  closed  it,  but  dragged  a 
heavy  box  m  front,  for  bolt  there  was  none.     Several  ill- 
ookmg  men  had,  during  the  day,  asked  their  way  to  Toronto. 
I  felt  alarmed  lest  such  rude  wayfarers  should  come  to-ni^ht 
and  demand  a  lodging,  and  find  me  alone  and  unprotected. 
Once  I  thought  of  rumiing  across  to  Mrs.  Joe,  and  asking  her 
tolet^oneof  thegirls  stay  with  me  until  Moodie  retuLd- 
but  the  way  m  which  I  had  been  repulsed  in  the  evening  pre! 
vented  me  from  making  a  second  appeal  to  their  charity 

Hour  after  hour  wore  away,  and  the  crowing  of  the  cocks 
proclaimed  midnight,  and  yet  uiey  came  not.     I  had  burned 
out  all  my  wood  and  I  dared  not  open  the  door  to  fetch  in 
more.     The  candle  was  expiring  in  the  socket,  and  I  had  not 
courage  to  go  up  into  the  loft  and  procure  another  before  it 
went  finally  out.   Cold,  heart^weary,  and  faint,  I  sat  and  .ried 
Every  now  and  then  the  furious  barking  of  the  dogs  at  the 
neighbounng  fa.ns,  and  the  loud  cackling  of  the  geese  upon 
our  own  made  me  hope  that  they  were  coming;  and  then  I 
listened  till  the  beatmg  of  my  own  heart  excluded  all  other 
sounds       Oh,  that  unwearied   brook !    how  it  sobbed  and 
moaned  hke  a  fretful  child  ;_what  unreal  terroi^  and  fancifu] 
1  lusions  my  too  active  mind  conjured  up,  whilst  listening  to 
Its  mysterious  tones !  ° 

Just  as  the  moon  rose,  the  howling  of  a  pa<jk  of  wolves,  from 


£JilAAr  THE  STILL-HU^ER. 


"nd  *o  geoso,  unCiL  to  ;  Vl    i      '"«'  "  *°  ™'»"^. 
fi-^n,  -t  up  the  morild i;'™''''""^  ''"  «'<'  g™^^"'  'O"' 
««d  oven  been  amused,  dX  ^  »-T''  ' """  °''^"  '""'^<'> 
«.-Shts,  with  hearing  th  ^o  vW  IT'  P''"'™''"'^  on  tha; 
but  I  had  never  bete  hea M    hem ''■''""''  ^''<^  "^'-''i 
to  me  waa  abroad  amid  th  '  ha  1    ""^""^  ^""'^  ™«  d«- 
the  track  that  Moodie  and  AWhan  „,    ^T  """  ''"^'=*'y  '- 
"ow  made  no  doubt  that  thovZ  t  ^'^  '"''" '  """^  ^ 

their  return  through  the  woods  t^?^''  ""'  ''"'^''  »'■• 
cobbed  until  the  eold  L  dat  *f  "°^'  """^  '  ^«Pt  and 
the  small  dim  window!^  ^  ^.Tf  "  "^^  ""^  "^-'gh 
»ight,  when  my  dear  husband  t^^°^  ""^  "  long  eheerless 
-Wlion,  and  I  was  leftt  "  f  "T/""  "^  "-'"^  «■« 
children,  and  6nly  an  old  Komrto'T  "'""  '^^  "«'« 
«-  my  tire,  and  attend  to  thewrttorthf;  "f  ""  ^"^ 

Paning  benedtio:^rro:d7n;t-r'  *'/  ^"'™^'  -'  "^  « 
that  I  was  afraid  ]e  t  thy  should  ,  l"".''  "'"'  *"  "^^  '"'"V 
dows,  or  come  down  ZltTt^'t  "'^<'"8''  *«  ^^^^  ^ml 
-y  child.  But  their  LZ^'CuTI' '""  ""  ""^  "' 
toce,  and  the  bright  sun  Je  up  1  ^  *™^  '"  *°  -^'^ 
horrors  of  the  night,  and  1  looked  o  '"''''''  *^'  ^'d 

-"c.     -n.  sight  of  tL  te  1    spread  rrr  ""''"^  ""-"^ 
renewed  my  grief,  for  I  comZ,'         *"  ""'''""'  ™PPcr, 
that  Moodie  was  dead.       ZZ^IT  ""'^f  "'  *''^"- 
'MO  the  pure  air  of  the  eariy  da^     "t""^'  "'"'  ^'"PPcd  forth 
■■cpose  still  hung  like  a  veU  oJer  /  T      "  """^  '"''""«'"' 
>"-ts  of  night  still  rested  Z„  thi  w  T  "'  ''^*""'-    ™« 
««.nd  but  the  flowing  of  the  wit''        '"^'^'  ""^  »ot  a 
-•    '^0  earth  had^,ottTrdrZi"^'"—- 


7* 


V^i"i  to  the 


a&mti 


154 


liouQiima  IT  IN  riiE  bush. 


throno  of  the  Creator.  Sad  at  I  sear  t,  and  weary  and  worn  in 
spirit,  I  went  down  lo  tlic  spring  and  washed  my  face  and 
head,  and  drank  a  deep  draugV't  jf  its  icy  waters.  On  return- 
ing to  the  liouse  I  met,  near  t  h^  door,  old  Brian  the  hunter, 
with  a  large  fox  dangling  across  his  shoulder,  and  the  dogs 
following  at  liis  heels. 

"  (iood  God !  Mrs.  Moodic,  what  is  the  matter  1  You  are 
early  abroad  this  morning,  and  look  dreadful  ill.  Is  any  thuig 
wrong  at  home  1     Is  the  baby  or  your  husband  !:>ick  1" 

"  Oh !"  I  cried,  bursting  into  tears,  '■  I  fear  he  is  killed  by 
the  wolves." 

The  man  stared  at  me,  as  if  ho  doubted  the  evidence  of  Ins 
senses,  and  well  he  n-lght ;  but  this  one  idea  had  taken  such 
strong  possession  of  my  mind  that  I  could  .rlmit  no  other.  1 
then  told  liiin,  as  well  as  I  <'ouid  i,"':]  words,  the  cause  of  my 
alarm,  to  which  he  listened  very  ki  jdl  y  ;:nd  pati<  htly. 

"Set  your  heart  at  rest;  your  h-Jsbuu-l  i-=  safe.  It  is  a 
]<mg  journey  on  foot  to  Mollineux,  to  r,;,c  unacquainted  with 
a  bla.^ed  path  m  a  bush  road.  Tin^y  have  staid  all  night 
at  tb';  bhu.'k  man's  shanty,  and  you  will  see  them  back  at 
noon." 

I  shook  my  head  and  continued  to  weep. 

"Well,  now,  in  order  to  satisfy  you,  I  will  saddle  my 
marc,  and  ride  over  to  the  nigger's,  and  bring  you  word  as 
fast  as  I  can." 

I  thanked  him  smcercly  for  his  kindness,  and  returned,  in 
somewhat  better  spirits,  to  the  house.  At  ten  o'clock  my 
good  messcLger  returned  with  the  glad  tiduigs  that  all  was 
well. 

The  day  before,  when  half  the  journey  had  been  accom- 
plished, John  Monaghan  let  go  the  rope  by  which  he  led  the 
cow,  and  she  had  broken  away  tln-ough  to  the  woods,  and  re- 
turned to  her  old  master ;  and  when  they  agam  reached  liis 


I 


JiliUN,   THE  STILL-IIUNTER.  j^^ 

place,  niffht  had  sot  in  onri  «.i, 

I'.vtho  poor  people  a  "„Za'Tr"T"'™'^ '"">'■'! 
W'-elChaa  been  taught  ■nerfectv/"/""  "'"' •'^■^'■»' 
«'"M  go  to  and  from  the  to™™  !  ^     .  ™'"' '""'  ™'°'  ""J 
-g"  W  one  f.™.hou;  t  a,     h r;'^  r  "^"^  "  '"- 
wayward  creature,  and  evidentiv  th'    T.       ™'  "  '"'""S''' 
Srce,  l,i,  fother's  malady^  ^       ""'"'• '"  "°  '"""H  dc- 

During  the  summer  months  h,.  i;     i       • 
«oar  his  fivther's  dwelli,,.  "nh  re,  ™'"''^  '"  '^'  ^-xJ^. 

^va.  generally  left  for  hi .!',"  o  ;'"""""  '?  "';"""  ''''^'  ^^'W* 
home  by  the  severity  of  ^2"''^  I"  «l'e  winter,  driven 
together  moping  i„  ^tho  ohi  „„  "'  "™"'''  ^'''  '''"•  ^'^^■- 
least  notiee  oflhat  1  „  °^"°™"'  ^'"'"'«  ^Wng  the 
mentioned  this  b  Jl:,     CTft  """"  '™-    ^™"  ""- 

-e  but  very  ^<^.^::^ic:t!^'i  I  '"^"'- 

I  feel  certain  that  half  his  o^v,,  d       ,  '°''  "S'>;  ""<> 

the  mental  aberration  of  his  cMd    '''"°"  ™^  «^«^»™''  hy 

■T  ^t;- TvXi:::t  Mif  "r '°  °"  -^  »> '°  -<- 

to  ki".  There  happen  dtrtat^h.^  "  """  ''°  ™'  «»"« 
»n  open  wood  box  Lto  wl  ioh tl  ,  '"  T'""'  "^  "-^  ■•"™ 
had  been  thrown;  'and,  w  1  Cf  ''"•*<"?  ."f  f„,o  apples 
to  the  note,  the  e;es  of  theTdiot  T  ™""S  ""  ""^ver 

magnetic  h.flueni,  upon     e     t   7'^"'"'^'''  "^  '''•'^  — 
"  very  fine  orehari,  I  did  „ot!f<^  '/"''""S  """  J^™"  h-d       . 
When  the  note  wa's  «' *     ^^    "d    t^'t  7-  "'  ""^  '""'■ 
g-'asped  it  mochanieally,  without  rll        .    . '"''    '^'=  ^'"5 
tl'e  a,.,  ,les.  -^  '  '  """""g  his  fixed  gaze  from 

"Give  that  to  your  fafi T,,.., .. 


^^ 


*      J  'i 


ii< 


i;  , 
I" 


^•19*0. 


156 


ROUQUING  IT  m  THE  BUSH. 


Ml. 


The  boy  answered  not— his  ears,  his  eyes,  his  whole  soul, 
were  concentrated  in  the  apples.   Ten  minutes  elapsed,  but  he 
stood  motionless,  like  a  pointer  at  a  dead  set. 
"  My  good  boy,  you  can  go." 
He  did  not  stir. 

"  Is  there  any  thing  you  want "?" 

"  I  want,"  said  the  lad,  without  movmg  his  eyes  from  the 
objects  of  his  intense  desire,  and  speaking  in  a  slow,  pointed 
manner,  which  ought  to  have  been  heard  to  be  fully  appreci- 
ated, "  I  want  ap-ples !" 

"  Oh,  if  that's  all,  take  what  you  like." 
The  permission  once  obtained,  the  boy  flung  himself  upon 
the  box  with  the  rapacity  of  a  hawk  upon  its  prey,  after 
being  long  poised  in  the  air,  to  fix  its  certain  aim ;  thrusting 
liis  hands  to  the  right  «ad  left,  in  order  to  secure  the  finest 
specimens  of  the  coveted  fruit,  scarcely  allowing  himself  time 
to  breathe  until  he  had  filled  his  old  straw  hat,  and  all  his 
pockets,  with  apples.  To  help  laughing  was  impossible;  wliile 
this  new  Tom  o'  Bedlam  darted  from  the  house,  and  scam- 
pered across  the  field  for  dear  life,  as  if  afraid  that  we  should 
pursue  him,  to  rob  him  of  his  prize. 

It  was  during  this  winter  that  our  friend  Brian  was  left 
a  fortune  of  three  hundred  pounds  per  annum ;  but  it  was 
necessary  for  him  to  return  to  his  native  country,  in  order 
to  take  possession  of  the  property.  This  he-positively  refused 
to  do  ;  and  when  we  remonstrated  with  him  on  the  apparent 
imbecility  of  this  resolution,  he  declared  that  he  would  not 
risk  his  life,  in  crossing  the  Atlantic  twice,  for  twenty  times 
that  sum.  What  strange  inconsistency  was  this,  in  a  being 
who  had  three  times  attempted  to  take  away  that  whioh 
he  dreaded  so  much  to  lose  accidentally  ! 

•  I  was  much  amused  with  an  account  which  he  gave  me,  in 
his  quamt  way,  of  an  excursion  he  went  upon  with  a  botanist, 


BRIAN,  THE  STiLL-HUNTER. 


157 

Brian  B i    i  said  '  Y««    T .    f  f        ^  ""^  """"^^  ^^^ 

«  <  r^  1  '    ^^ '  ^^^*^  of  that  V 

0%  you  are  the  man  I  want  to  see.  They  tell  m^  fhnf 

^" '  W^ere  do  you  want  to  go  ?'  said  I. 
" '  No  where  in  particular,'  says  he  "  '  I  wnr.f  f 
":  jn  all  d.eetions,  to^ollL  Lts'^  o^^^^^^  ^- 

be  off.'  ^        •     ^^  ^^-^^on-ow  will  suit  we  will 

"'And  your  charge?'  said  hp     'Tuir^  ♦    i. 
that.'  '  ^'^^  ^o  ^«  certain  of 

" '  ^  ^«"^^  ^day.     My  time  and  labour  upon  my  farm  af 
this  busy  season,  is  worth  more  than  that.'  ^         '  "' 

Irue,'  said  he.     'Well    I'll  m,.«  , 

"  '  By  daybreak,  if  you  wish  it ' 

leave  him  in  my  stable.'  ^*^  ^^^^^ 

"  I  assured  him  that  he  must  be  his  oto  beast 


Pt         t  tt  t  ff  n 


V4     MUi 


lUdO, 


158 


UOUailLSG  IT  IN  TIW  liU.m. 


aud  curry  his  axe,  and  bl«nkot,  and  wallet  of  food  upon  liia 
o^s•u  buck.  The  little  bo-ly  did  not  much  relish  this  arrange 
ment ;  but  as  there  was  no  help  for  it,  he  very  good-naturedly 
CQinplied.     Off  we  set,  and  so-.n  climbed  the  steep  ridge  at 

the  back  of  your  farm,  and  got  upon lake  plains.     The 

woods  were  flush  with  flowers;  and  the  littl-  ,a-ai,  ^ew  into 
such  an  ecstacy,  that  at  every  fresh  spe- nib-u  I-  uttered  a 
yell  of  joy,  cut  a  caper  in  the  air,  and  flung  himself  down 
upon  them,  as  if  he  was  drunk  with  delight.  'Oh  what 
treasures !  what  treasures !'  he  cried.  '  I  shaU  make  mv 
fortune !'  '' 

"  It  is  seldom  I  laugh,"  quoth  Brian,  "  but  I  could  not  help 
lauglnng  at  this  odd  little  man  ;  for  it  was  not  the  beautiful 
blossoms  such  as  you  delight-  lo  paint,  that  drew  forth  these 
exclamations,  but  the  queer  IKtle  plants,  which  he  had  rum- 
maged  for  at  the  roots  of  old  trees,  among  the  moss  and  loner 
grass.     He  sat  upon  a  deer.}  ed  trunk,  which  lay  in  our  path" 
I  do  believe  for  a  long  hour,  making  an  oration  over  sumj 
grayish  things,  spotted  with  red,  thut  grew  upon  it,  which 
looked  more  like  mculd  than  plants,  declarmg  himself 'ro]  aid 
for  all  the  trouble  and  expense  he  had  been  at,  if  it  were  only 
to  obtain  a  sight  of  them.     I  gathered  him  a  beautiful  blossom 
of  the  lady's  slipper;  but  he  pushed  it  back  when  I  presented 
it  to  him,  saying,  'Yes,  yes,  'tis  very  fine.     I  have  seen  that 
often  before,  l)nt  these  lichens  are  splendid.' 

"  The  man  had  so  little  taste  that  I  thought  him  a  fool,  and 
so  I  left  him  to  talk  to  his  dear  plants,  while  I  shot  partrid-  .'s 
for  our  supper.  We  spent  six  days  in  th.  woous;  and  liie 
little  man  filled  his  black  wallet  with  all  sorts  of  rubbish,  as 
if  he  wilfully  shut  his  eyes  to  the  beau^'ful  fl'^v/crs,  and  cho'.  - 
only  to  admire  ugly,  insignificant  plants,  that  every  body 
else  passes  by  without  noticing,  and  which,  often  as  I  had  bec!< 
m  tho  woods,  1  never  had  observed  beforo.     1  never  j.    ■^^x^ 


JiRlAN,   THE  STILL-IIUNTKli. 


159 

under  the  water  tlrif  h.  .        •       ?        ''""^  ^'^''''^^  ^Iiat  grew 

flowers  whioli  had  caused  tl,n  .,.        '       .         '"'''  ""  '"  ""^ 
.""ocont  ,„„„,"  eo„ti„„,.,  Briu,, ;  .^a  «„  L      "  T",  •'" 
^•'.ild.     Ho  gave  1  J,      1,  ""';  "'"  ""'"^  '"•"-"■  "l^"  » 
>•»  the  woods  that  ,vc  vaudc  cl  .         "'  "''""  '""""« 

«-  wee  „a„ts  t,.t  h  s<!^1„"  ;;;f  '"«r'""'  r" '  '■"'^'' 

rrcrcrred  them  to  the  fine  Howe^s  "        '         "™""'  ^'*>-  '"= 

I-t  week  .    our  stay  i„  ,he  towuship"f    1^^.  1";'"=,"'? 
u.^  every  eveip.  ^  0,1/1  ,,-,,.,.,.  i    ,        ^  ■'  "^  visitod 

Afl.r  we  left  that  part  of  hV  Ctr/ 1  'Z  Z  "  "'  "•""• 
mclaueholv,  .hich  eudod  in  soIf-dostruJt  "„  B  ,  t'"-"'""' 
.varmer-karted  man,  .vhile  he  enjoyed  the  Lff  ?"' 

seldom  crossed  our  path.  ^     '    '■'""™'  '"'^ 


!-'|l 


?■' 


100 


JiOUOEINO  IT  LV  THE  BUSff. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


THE    CHARIVARI. 

mriE  moan  of  tho  ™d  tells  of  the  coming  rain  that  it  bears 
-L  upon  Its  wings;  tho  deep  stilln.  ss  of  tho  woods,  and  tho 
lengthened  shadow  they  cast  upon  the  stream,  silently  but 
surely  foreshow  the  bursting  of  l^,e  thunder-cloud;  and  who 
that  has  lived  for  any  time  upon  the  coast,  can  mistake  tho 
language  of  the  waves;    that  deep  prophetic  surging  that 
ushers  in  the  terrible  gale  ?     So  it  is  with  the  human  heart- 
it^has  Its  mysterious  warnings,  its  fits  of  sunshine  and  shade, 
of  storm  and  calm,  now  elevated  with  anticipations  of  joy- 
now  depressed  by  dark  presentiments  of  ill.  ' 
All  who  have  ever  trodden  this  earth,  possessed  of  the 
powers  of  thought  and  reflection,  of  tracing  effects  back  to 
their  causes,  have  listened  to  these  voices  of  the  soul    .■    d 
secretly  acknowledged  their  power;  but  few,  very  few, 'have 
had  courage  boldly  to  declare  their  belief  in  them :  the  wisest 
and  the  best  have  given  credence  to  them,  and  the  experience 
of  every  day  proves  their  truth;  yea,  the  proverbs  of  past 
ages  abound  with  allusions  to  the  same  subject,  and  thoucrh 
the  worldly  may  sneer,  and  tho  good  man  reprobate  the 
belief  m  a  theory  which  he   considers  dangerous,  yet  the 
former,  when  he  appears  led  by  an  irresistible  impulse  to 
enter  mto  some  fortunate,  but  until  then  unthought^of  specula- 
tion;  and  the  latter,  when  he  devoutly  exclaims  that  God  has 
met  him  in  prayer,  unconsciously  acknowledge  the   same 


THE  CHARIVARI. 


lot 


fearful  abyss  Wooli,^!  .       ,'''"'  """  '""='<  "^  «•<""  « 

against  my  swcllin.  hell     I",';    '''"''"'"'  ''''■"""  '"'"ved 
ever  to  mv  native  shl         i       """^nted  to  bid  adieu  for 

ful  to  drZ  Cic  '  ""  "  ""-"^^  •"'"'  "-'-  »<»  ™. 

a  Jw\oL"'a™i:rtrrT''^"  ^t  "" ''"™"  '•»"• '» --^ 

iii^iiio  umia  tno  western  wi  fJ<j  ?     "ut-^ 
pelled  to  emigrate      Rnnn.i  .     t^  7  *"  ^"^""^  "«<=  com- 

and  happy  in  each  nfl,..'    i  ^  ^^^^^"  friends, 

world  cT  beat  :  „;*;7  '°™' -"  Pressed  all  that  the' 
subaltern  om^^^.!^':^^ T      '     ^'  '""'"W  of  a 

too  s.aii  to  supply  thru::"; ';:;;.  is',—^-  ■; 

family,  not  enough  to  maintain  hu  .t  ■    ,'  °^  *  ^""^ 

True,  it  „ay  finlhi,  eW  rn^r  d  T ""'  '*'"'!!'« '"  ^°^'«*y- 
ferently,  but  it  leaves  ^^Z^7'Z7T  "u'"'^  '•""''■ 
ments  of  education  or  TZ  7^  '"''''f«''^'>l'le  require- 
and  misfortune     l"'  slh      ^  ?o„ti„ge„cies  of  sickness 

emigrate ;  Nature  pit  I  T'al'  th  '"'!:  "''"  '"'  "«""  '» 
tlie  evils  arisin.  outran  L     ,  ""'^  '"'^  ™"»"'y  fo' 

Vice  is  always  Ce^^  :;:.::!:::„«-  -  -  - 

Up  ,«  the  period  of  which  I  now  .peak,  we  had  not  expe- 


M 


^'»  ''->m^^l'^i^smmii^'"-m 


•-»«**«ii,««4„ 


''t*<mmtam 


ayi 


W 


HP- 

f       : 

liJ''''^ 

iiiiii 

163 


liOUaiUNO  IT  IN  THE  liUSIT. 


rienccd  much  mconvcnicnce  from  our  very  limited  means 
Our  wants  were  few,  and  we  enjoyed  many  of  the  comforts 
and  even  some  of  the  luxuries  of  life ;  and  all  luid  gone  on 
smoothly  and  lovingly  with  us  until  the  birth  of  our  first 
ehiJd.     It  was  then  that  prudence  whispered  to  the  father 
You  are  happy  and  contented  now,  but  this  cannot  always 
lust ;  the  birth  of  that  child  whom  you  have  hailed  with  as 
much  rapture  as  though  she  were  born  to  inherit  a  noble 
estate,  is  to  you  the  beginning  of  care.     Your  family  may  in- 
crease  and  your  wants  will  increase  in  proportion;  out  of 
^vliat  fund  can  you  satisfy  their  demands  ?     Some  provision 
must  be  made  for  the  future,  and  made  quickly,  while  youth 
and  health  enable  you  to  combat  successfully  with  the  ills  of 
iife.^   When  you  married  for  inclination,  you  knew  that  emi- 
gration must  be  the  result  of  such  an  act  of  imprudence  in 
over-populated  England.     Up  and  be  dohig,  wliile  you  still 
possess  the  means  of  transporting  yourself  to  a  land  where 
the  mdustrious  can  never  lack  bread,  and  where  there  is  a 
chance  that  wealth  and  independence  may  reward  virtuous 
toil. 

Alas !  that  truth  should  ever  whisper  such  unpleasant 
reaht.es  to  the  lover  of  case-to  the  poet,  the  author,  the 
musician,  the  man  of  books,  of  refined  taste  and  gentlemanly 
habits.  Yet  he  took  the  hint,  and  began  to  bestir  himself 
%vith  the  spirit  and  energy  so  characteristic  of  the  glorious 
North,  from  whence  he  sprung. 

"The  sacrifice,"  he  said,  "must  be  made,  and  the  sooner 
the  better.     My  dear  wife,  I  feel  confident  that  you  will  ro 
.-pond  to  the  call  of  duty,  and,  hand  in  hand  and  heart  in  heart 
wo  will  go  forth  to  meet  difficulties,  and,  by  the  holn  of  God' 
to  subdue  them."  ' 

])ear  husband  !  I  take  shamo  to  myself  that  my  purpose 
was  less  firm,  tliat  my  he^irt  Ihigored  so  far  behind  yours  in 


.      THE  CIlARIVAIil.  j^g 

'ioty  u,  which  I  lU  „,ovc/  ho  '  1    ';  "'"  '"f*  "f  "-  ^"- 

'-t  to  ,.cs,,o„d  to  „,y  k.ba„dw'X'  '""  '"  "''"^ 

1  was  the  youno-esf  In  o  f^.,..:i  ,    , 

away  from  our  once  „ros,,  ,.       .      '  ""-■"  '•"•■''"■^  '™" 

ui-uo  wor„  th:c~'r;:r''^^''''r'™™'- 

VerdureJos.  earth  «akcd  audlaro  "^'™"  '""""«  '''" 

^"p'^rt:i':::x^:„:;:^;^^'".'^™".t,^^^ 

which  so  ofteu  df..ri.l,..    '       ""f  "^  "''versity.     l.„verty, 
t-.er,thesto™l;:tit^^^^^^^  "■^-  ^ 

w„:  the  ±eoto:::Lr:i;::;.::;'-^^^^^ 

Without  losing  a.H  t    f  ,.oh  f  ''  """  "'"'  "-"'^■"""• 

dared  to  bo  poor  •  to  ,te  ,  r'"' ''"""""  '"  ^''^'^■'  "'"7 
talents  with'  wi.i^h  t  '  "  ™'l:  "™,  7^"-'  ""^  "-'-  I'- 
ti-n,  work  out  their  a  p^  ft^d t:  '"ir  '"'r^''^'  ''"'^"-<' 
™.nmer  friends  forsook  them     H       .         T"^  "'™''"1'  ""J 

world,  and  their  nan.es  were  menioll  J  .  "'  '"""■'"« 
wi^o  and  good  ;  aud  what  th  vZ  :  w,!  ti?'"'  '^ ,"'" 
.■«b'aii.ea  in  welkumed  rej,utatio„  ""^'  "'""^  """ 


I  i! 


lt^^',J^^. 


164 


BOUGEma  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


h 


Brought  up  in  this  school  of  self-denial,  it  would  have  been 
strange  indeed  if  all  its  wise  and  holy  precepts  Imd  brought 
forth  no  correspondmg  fruit.  I  endeavoured  to  recoucile  my- 
self  to  the  change  that  awaited  me,  to  accommodate  my  mind 
and  pursuits  to  the  new  position  in  which  I  found  myself 
placed. 

Many  a  hard  battle  had  we  to  fight  with  old  prejudices 
and  many  proud  swellings  of  the  heart  to  subdue,  before  we' 
could  feel  the  least  interest  in  the  land  of  our  adoption,  or  look 
upon  it  as  our  home. 

All  was  new,  strange,  and  distasteful  to  us ;  we  shrank  from 
the  rude,  coarse  familiarity  of  the  uneducated  people  among 
whom  we  were  thrown ;  and  they  in  return  viewed  us  as  in- 
novators,  who  wished  to  curtail  their  independence,  by  ex- 
pectmg  from  them  the  kindly  civilities  and  gentle  courtesies 
of  a  more  refined  community.     Tliey  considered  us  proud 
and  shy,  when  we  were  only  anxious  not  to  give  offence. 
Tlie  semi-barbarous  Yankee   squatters,  who  had  "loft  their 
country  for  their  country's  good,"  and  by  whom  we  were  sur- 
rounded  in  our  first  settlement,  detested  us,  and  with  them  we" 
could  have  no  feeling  in  common.     We  could  neither  lie  nor 
cheat  in  our  dealings  with  them ;  and  they  despised  us  for 
our  Ignorance  in  trading  and  our  want  of  smartness. 

The  utter  want  of  that  common  courtesy  with  which  a 
well-brought-up  European  addresses  the  poorest  of  his  breth- 
ren,  is  severely  felt  at  first  by  settlers  in  Canada.  At  the 
period  of  which  I  am  now  speaking,  the  titles  of  "sir"  or 
"  madam"  were  very  rarely  applied  by  inferiors.  They  en- 
tered your  house  without  knocking;  and  while  boasting  of 
their  freedom,  violated  one  of  its  dearest  laws,  which  considers 
even  the  cottage  of  the  poorest  labourer  his  castle,  and  his 
privacy  sacred. 

"  Is  your  man  to  hum  ?»-« Is  the  woman  within  T  were 


THE  CUARIVARL 

White  thcvLted  „, !  T  "  ''"""""°"  ""^'^  P»'«  -d- 

7  wa,  .hat  eouU  reflee  ollt  2  '  '''"""'■ '" 
plead-an  excuse  for  its  bruta^r  .?,  ^  'P""""'  °'"  «™n 
knee  .as  „,ore  genel^SlsTbl  H  """  ""  "^°- 
emigrants  from  Bri,„i„  Lo  h. T  V  '"^'  '""^'J''«"ed 
to  their  eiviliu.  tha^  W  le     ^  ""'^''■•^'ood  y..r  elaims 

covered  the  seem         ^  ''"™'  "'^■"-'•='™^-     ^«  '  di* 

brethren  w,th  a  sJZ  ^^  ^1  '"'''  '""'^  '"'"""^^ 
feelings,  and  is  thrust  uponTm  bl  J  7"T'  '°  "■°'' 
■^tanees  in  which  they  are  placed  Thl  t  ''°'''™'  "'^""'- 
edueation  is  not  sincere     TW     ,      ,         ^"""^^  *"  '''"'''  ""d 

w,  although  w':;.L\f:rroro' •""'""«"  *"'^ 

»ity  compels  their  obedience  thlf^'™?''"-  ^'""^ 
flatter  the  wealth  on  .hich  hey tpc^dTb  '""'^  ""' 
tl-em  once  enigrate,  the  clog  whL  fetetd  ,  ''""'  ^' ''' 
removed;  they  are  free-   LTT.   f  ""' ""^''""^y 

freedom  is  to  wrcalc  un™  ^  """"'  P"^"''«^  "^  «"^ 

hatred  of  theirTe  r^'CLTtr  '"^'^-'-''^^-P 
their  level  by  disallowing  -,,1*1,,"^  f^'^T/™  '» 
while  they  hope  to  exalt  Ihemsres  ^71^ /f '"^"^ ' 
Mies  and  gentlemen  by  sinking  yl  I'^t^i^T  ''T 
you  received  from  Nature-plA  °  w  J  7"'^""' 
Oh,  how  much  ,nore  honourable  than  ^^  •  ,  '"""'^■ 
sions !  'onourawe  than  their  vulgar  pretcn- 

the;:::  'zz^t^T'""'^-  ^™p'«  ^p'^-s  .,m 

oeL^         ^^  *"'''  "P'""  "^  fcy  the  working^la^e. 


a 


»«« 


Ui^,:mf 


100 


no uo my/7  it  in  thk  Busn. 


But  from  this  folly  the  natlvc-hom  Canadian  is  exempt-  it 
IS  only  practised  ],y  the  low-born  Yankee,  or  the  Yankeefied 
British  peasantry  and  mechanics.  It  originates  in  the  enor- 
mous reaction  springing  out  of  a  sudden  emancipation  from 
a  state  of  utter  dependence  into  one  of  unrestrained  liberty. 
As  such,  I  not  only  excuse,  but  forgis-o  it,  for  the  prinriple 
IS  founded  in  nature  ;  and,  however  disgusting  and  distasteful 
to  those  accustomed  to  diHerent  treatment  from  their  infe- 
riors,  it  is  better  than  a  hollow  profession  of  duty  and  attach- 
ment  urged  upon  us  by  a  false  and  unnatural  po>-,ition.  StiU 
It  is  very  irksome  until  you  think  more  deeply  upon  it;  and 
then  it  serves  to  ainuse  rather  than  to  irritate. " 

Seventeen  years  has  made  as  great  a  diflference  in  the  state 
of  society  in  Canada,  as  it  has  in  its  commercial  and  political 
nnportance.  When  w(^.  came  to  tne  Canadas,  society  was 
composed  of  elements  ^hich  did  not  always  amalgamate  in 
the  best  possible  manner. 

We  were  reckoned  no  addition  to  the  society  of  C 

Authors  and  literary  people  they  held  in  supreme  detestation* 
and  I  was  told  by  a  lady,  the  very  first  time  I  appeared  in' 
company,  that  "  she  heard  that  I  MTote  books,  but  she  could 
tell  me  that  they  did  not  want  a  Mrs.  TroJlope  in  Canada  » 

I  had  not  then  read  xMrs.  Trollope's  work  on  America,  or 
I  should  have  comprehended  at  once  the  cause  of  her  indirrna- 
tion ;  for  she  was  just  such  a  person  as  would  have  drawn 
forth  the  keen  satire  of  that  fiir-sceing  observer  of  the  absurd- 
ities  of  our  nature,  whoso  witty  exposure  of  American  affectji. 
tion  has  done  more  towards  producing  a  reform  in  that  respect 
than  would  have  resulted  from  a  thousand  grave  animadver' 
sions  soberly  written. 

Another  of  my  self-constituted  advisers  informed  me  with 
great  asperity  in  hpr  look  and  tone,  that  "it  would  bo  better 
loi-  me  to  lay  by  tho  pen,  and  b^taJce  mysulf  to  sorao  more 


These  reni^arU  """"^^  ^^^^^^  h«"«c  •'" 

stockings  I,o„o„th  tho  long  'convc  „ LTI  , '"'"'™'  "^  ^'™ 
commonplace,  hopin,-  ,o  lZ2Tl  }  ''""'  "*■  *"  '■■""«^' 
tionaUe  colon  •     /  h  J    "  ,       .  ''  ""°''  ""■  *»  »''><■- 

-y  life,  and  wa.  m  ,     .ridT.r-'""  "'  "'^^<>  — '  ■" 

-  I  coma  ,„,,  m:L"r:;^,''^J  ""™;'f ;  P-t:cu,a,.,y 

arrangement  of  my  f,mn  '  !'  ''"'^„''«^»J  '»  <ho  domestic 
vc.%  lellevo  that  U^  ~  t"/!  "'"'^"  "'•  *'-™-  ^ 
<';»^inot  species  fton,  'he,S',*°,  :f  »"  -."-oneof  . 
afijresaid  biped  should  neitl.cr  !  /  ,  ^  ^  ""'''^"'"'  *" 
other  folks  ;_a  proud,  use  /elf'.  /  t""'''  ""^  "*  '"^o 
that  deserved  nothing  but  tL  ?""'""'•  ""''"^''■'J  """"»', 
mankind.  ^    "'  '"*''  »'«"  ''"""ote  from  the  rest  of 

Anxious  not  to  offend  them  \  f.:„i  . 
subjects.     I  confined  mv  eon^'  *"  '"'""'  »"  "">rary 

»terest ;    but  this  81™"^?"  ,f  '""'^  "'  ^°™-" 
tious  show  of  lear,"in.  f'  "ri  ,°  "'■''"  ""^  '"»^'  "^«™t-w 

t*  on  such  .ubjec';^;::a:r,r:r,hr '  ™r  ■■"' 

understanding  me    Thi.  ,v.,.  ^         '^"'  '"C'lpiWo  of 

«>™  'I'e  -ostarr^gaV  ;!:„:;•"  """'""'«  ">  "■->  -'«ove 
garded  ™e  with  a  jeaw"?  ""  "^  ''"«'  ■•"■''  *"y  --o- 
-  intolerable  .^01.11  id  ^'""t"!".""^'"'-'  """-•,,, 
BO  accustomed  to  he«  1,7.^  "J"'^'  of  v,siti„g  ,„em.  I  was 
retailed  to  me  by  othl'o  ■'''""  '™"^'  ^  'o  have  it 
<lo  liothim,  else  "  t,,.,,  .  '    „  ;"'  ■>'""•  *'=  can  write,  but  she  can 

over,  bri,ch  ^  !::::i:::^-::^  ■•-  t-^^ 

sarcasms  .iltimately  led  to  mv  ...     ' •  '''''  iH-naturccl 

inherent  In  our  poor  ^  2^^::^^: ^  ^"^^^ 
annoy.^  }>y  my  proficiency  In  .      '^^^'^  P^"PJ«  were  more 


%m 


«*<MH^P5Wrtw»:^S"  X-Si 


168 


HOUGHINO  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


hold,  than  they  would  have  been  by  any  displays  of  my  un- 
fortunate  authorship.  Never  was  the  fable  of  the  old  man 
and  his  ass  so  truly  veriiied. 

There  is  very  little  of  the  sociul,  friendly  visiting  among  the 
Canadians  which  constitutes  the  great  charm  of  home  Their 
hospitality  is  entirely  reserved  for  those  monster  meetings  in 
which  Uiey  vie  with  each  other  in  displaying  fine  clotJies  and 
costly  furniture.  As  these  large  parties  are  very  expensive, 
few  families  can  afford  to  give  more  than  one  during  the  visit- 
ing season,  which  is  almost  exclusively  confined  to  the  winter 
ITie  great  gun  once  fired,  you  meet  no  more  at  the  same  house 
around  the  social  board  until  the  ensuing  year,  and  would 
scarcely  know  that  you  had  a  neighbour,  were  it  not  for  a 
formal  morning  call  made  now  and  then,  just  to  remind  you 
that  such  individuals  are  in  the  land  of  the  living,  and  still 
exist  in  your  near  vicinity. 

I  am  speaking  of  visiting  in  the  to\vns  and  villages  The 
manners  and  habits  of  the  European  settlers  in  the  country 
are  far  more  simple  and  natural,  and  their  hospitality  more 
genuine  and  sincere.  They  have  not  been  sophisticated  by 
the  hard,  worldly  wisdom  of  a  Canadian  town,  and  still  retain 
a  warm  remembrance  of  the  kindly  humanities  of  home 

Among  the  women,  a  love  of  dress  exceeds  all  other  pas- 
sions.    In  public  they  dress  in  silks  and  satins,  and  wear  the 
most   expensive   ornaments,  and   they  display   considerable 
taste  m  the  arrangement  and  choice  of  colours.     The  wife  of 
a  man  in  moderate  circumstances,  whose  income  does  not  ex 
ceed  two  or  three  hundred  pounds  a-year,  does  not  hesitate  in 
expending  ten  or  fifteen  pounds  upon  on3  article  of  outside 
finery,  while  often  her  imier  garments  are  not  worth  as  many 
sous ;  thus  sacrificing  to  outward  show  all  the  real  eomforts 
of  life.     The  aristocracy  of  wealth  is  bad  enough;  but  the 
ariitocH-acy  of  dre««  is  perfectly  contemptible.    Could  Raphael 


;!  |.  u:. 


THE  CUARIVARL  jg^ 

Great  and  manifold,  even  to  the  ruin  r,C  c^-r 
-is  arising  from  tl>is  inordinate  loveTr  d2    t!'  7  ** 
their  fashions  from  the  Freneh  and  .^4  '^'^^  "^^f™ 

from  the  Enalish  wh„n,  ,1.     7^  Americans-seldom 

elegance  o^t^:^Zy  ""  "'^"^  "  *«  -'"»-  »" 

fros]l^:ss't;;'i^::'t^*''^^ "'""'  ""^  "■-'"  -» 

-on  fade,  oX^,  perLT^t'l^  ^""^  '  *""  ">^-  <'•'-- 

and  their  going  too  Llv tto  '^' ""'""'^  ""  "'^'o™^ 

while  yet  children  to  «„„!         f  ^  ""''  ""'"'S  ^"P''^'''^' 

the  sujden  ^^:x^i:^T^t-:i2T^---^ 

winter  blast.  ^^^^'  ^^^"^g>  Wtter 

met?:?r:cdtdT'  ""^^  "^  ^™^™"^  -"  ^^  ^y- 
early  agf  fr:,:it~;r;t'  -r  rr^-  ^-^ 

«ety,  taices  from  them  l^^  awT^aX:^::: t^t  t.W 
Of  fourteen  can  enter  a  crowded  b.]!  mn,       .T^''^'^^'    ^  g""l 

possession,  and  converse  wl  as  mu  d    "rr^^^  "  ""'^  "^'■ 
of  forty     The  bln.J,  .7r     ^.  confidence,  as  a  matron 

*"ii/.     me  blush  of  timidity  and  diffidpnnr  ,'«  ;„^    ^ 
upon  the  cheek  of  o  Po«  a-      (         "™aencr  is,  indeed,  rare 
r      ui^  tnecK  ot  a  Canadian  beauty.     Their  Pdimof.-..^  • 
limited  and  confinpri  fr.  e^  ^  education  is  so 

very  Porfect,7tSt  ^  ITr^^^^^  *-  - 

yond  a  particular  discussion  on  thelT™  flf  """  T  ''"" 
their  neighbours,  their  houses  fu™w/'  ""  '*'"  "'' 
times  interlarded'  with  a  .V^Jl^^  X'  Xr^'  "'"''■ 
tells  keenly  „pon  the  cLracters  of  theif  dt^W  Ld?"""^""' 

with":;fti^z:r::;i::-'--^^^^^^^^^^^ 

and  charming  companions.    At  „   too  1  '■^ 

truly  lovely  ,-r.  remind  one  of  E^otlZfVit: 

o 


f:i 


«ii>s^  i*  'KgiC-h  * 


V' 


170 


noUQniNO  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


weeds.  Music  and  dancing  are  their  chief  accomplishments. 
In  the  former  they  seldom  excel.  Though  possessing  an  ex- 
cellent  general  taste  for  music,  it  is  seldom  in  their  power  to 
bestow  upon  its  study  the  time  which  is  required  to  make 
a  really  good  musician.  They  are  admirable  proficients  in  the 
other  art,  which  they  acquire  readily,  with  the  least  instruc- 
tion, often  without  any  instruction  at  all,  beyond  that  which  is 
given  almost  intuitively  by  a  good  ear  for  time,  and  a  quick 
perception  of  the  harmony  of  motion. 

^  ^  Tlie  waltz  is  their  favourite  dance,  in  which  old  and  young 
join  with  the  greatest  avidity ;  it  is  not  unusual  to  see  parents 
and  their  grown-up  children  dancing  in  the  same  set  in  a 
public  ball-room.  Their  taste  in  music  is  not  for  the  sen- 
timental ;  they  prefer  the  light,  lively  tunes  of  the  Virginian 
minstrels  to  the  most  impassioned  strains  of  Bellini. 

On  entering  one  of  the  public  ball-rooms,  a  stranger  would 
be  delighted  with  such  a  display  of  pretty  faces  and  neafc 
figures.  I  have  hardly  ever  seen  a  really  plain  Canadian 
prl  in  her  teens;  and  a  downright  ugly  one  is  almost  un- 
known. 

The  high  cheek-bones,  wide  mouth,  and  tumed-up  nosd 
of  the  Saxon  race,  so  common  among  the  lower  classes  in 
Britam,  are  here  succeeded  in  the  next  generation,  by  the 
small  oval  face,  straight  nose,  and  beautifully-cut  mouth  of 
the  American ;  while  the  glowing  tint  of  the  Albion  rose 
pales  beneath  the  withering  influence  of  late  hours  and  stove, 
heat. 

They  are  naturally  a  fine  people,  and  possess  capabilities 
and  talents,  which,  when  improved  by  cultivation,  will  render 
them  second  to  no  people  in  the  world ;  and  that  period  is 
not  far  distant, 

Idiots  and  mad  people  are  so  seldom  met  with  among 
natives  of  tl^e  colony,  that  not  one  pf  this  description  of  un. 


THE  CIIARIVARL 
fortunates  has  ever  comp  ,m^ 
tion.  ''"""  ""^^^  "^y  o^vn  immediate  observa- 

It  was  towards  tlie  cIosp  nf  fi. 
had  boon  u„„.,„al|y  cold  and   '     f  T^T  °^  ''"'•  ^•'"* 
was  absent  at  D-l__  ;!       .  '^''"'"^'''  "'"'«  Moodie 

mcnt  grant  of  land,  that  \T2Z  f  r"'""  °'" ''''  g"™™' 
-'.in-ng  to  .est,  b,  .'he  t'u ^7  C;;  ^r"?^''  J"-  ^^^o- 
••'"■ty,  accompanied  by  shout,  .1,,  f  '"  ""''  "«■"•  ^i- 
the  beating  of  drums  ,ndTl,  T  /  '  "'"  •'''''^'■"S  "^  ho™.,, 
neighbourhood.  TC^  !'  '/"""S  "'  »"  'he  dogs  in  the 
discordant  and  hideous  Ind!  '  ""'  """"'"S  "P'-«»  of 
What  could  it  all  mean  t     The  ^  • , 

alarmed  as  myself,  opened  thLdofr  and      tTnT''  "  ■""" 
-Ine  goodness  defend  us  f  =1,^       ,  ,^^^' 

^^  and  drawing  a  bolt  seldom  used  "Sn'^f'''^  °'"'"« 
The  Yankees  must  have  taC  P  Y  ""  ""^  ""'■dered. 
hither."  ™  '"■"="  Canada,  and  are  marching 

"Nonsense!  that  cannot  be  ;t     n    -j 
leave  the  main  road  to  attack   '  f"''  ""^^  ^™>*"  '^ver 

"o-e  is  very  near,     d  "^f"^  f'"'^?  '""^  'his.     Yet  the 

-e  the  ham'mer  and  s!:    '  jt\7,  «™8  =«"-     luring 
dows."  ""^>  and  lot  us  secure  the  win- 

The  next  moment  I  laiished  it  ^    <•  i,    . 
^eeure  a  log  hut,  when  the  Llication  of  f  ^  ■"attempting  to 
walls  would  consume  it  i„  /^  """?"  "'^a  match  to  its  rotten 
mereased,  I  was   rllll  ftiltlT'™'?     ^""'  -  'ho  noise 
Iri^h  (for  my  Scotch  girl  I  iTh^d  }l'  '"™"*'  ^"^^  ^^ 
band,  and  I  had  been  ob  feed   "V,v      "^""T  '"  ""'^"'^  "  hus. 
had  been  only  a  few  davf  h,  t.         """""f ' '"  ^''  P'"™-  "ho 
wring  her  hands,  and  late  t   e  trdt?^'  '^^""  *°  "''  "'" 
Just  at  this  critical  moment    ^h  """""^  ""^""ada. 

dieted  of  an  arrant  c~;  1^^'  Tf  '"'*  ^'"■-»- 
Canadian  child  of  si.  yea  *  oidT  mL  "o!!i'r  ^^"^  " 

'        •  -  "tppcu  at  the 


?4 


M 


t'    .i 


172 


ROXJOniNG  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


door,  and  although  generally  a  most  unwelcome  visitor,  from 
her  gossiping,  mischievous  propensities,  I  gladly  let  her  in. 

"  Do  toll  me,"  1  cried,  "  the  meaning  of  this  strange  up- 
roar?" 

"  Oh,  'tis  nothing,"  she  replied,  laughing ;  "  you  and  Mary 
look  as  white  as  a  sheet ;  but  you  need  not  be  alarmed.  A 
set  of  wild  fellows  have  met  to  charivari  Old  Satan,  who  has 
married  his  fourth  wife  to-night,  a  young  gal  of  sixteen.  I 
should  not  wonder  if  some  mischief  happens  among  them,  for 
they  are  a  bad  set,  made  up  of  all  the  idle  loafers  about  Port 
H and  C ." 

"What  is  a  charivari?"  said  I.  "Do,  pray,  enlighten 
me." 

«  Have  you  been  nine  months  in  Canada,  and  ask  that  ques- 
tion 1     Why,  I  thought  you  knew  every  thing  !     Well,  I  will 
tell  you  what  it  is.     The  charivari  is  a  custom  that  the  Cana- 
dians got  from  the  French,  in  the  Lower  Province,  and  a 
queer  custom  it  is.     When  an  old  man  marries  a  young  wife, 
or  an  old  woman  a  young  husband,  or  two  old  people,  who 
ought  to  be  thmking  of  their  graves,  enter  for  the  second  or 
third  time  into  the  holy  estate  of  wcrllock,  as  the  priest  calls 
it,  all  the  idle  young  fellows  in  tli^^  iKiighbourhood  meet  to- 
gether to  charivari   them.     For  ihis   purpose  they  disguise 
themselves,  blackening  their  face^,  ^  <;ttmg  their  clothes  on 
hind  part  before,  and  wearing  horrible  masks,  with  grotesque 
caps  on  their  heads,  adorned  with  cocks'  feathers  and  bells. 
They  then  form  in  a  regular  body,  and  proceed  to  the  bride- 
groom's    house,   to   the    sound   of   tin   kettles,   horns,   and 
drums,  cracked  fiddles,  and  all  the  discordant  instruments 
they   can   collect  together.     Thus   equipped,  they  surround 
the  house  where  the  wedding  is  held,  just  at  the  hour  when  the 
happy  couple  are  supposed  to  be  about  to  retire  to  rest— beat- 
ing  upon  the  door  with  clubs  and  staves  and  demanding  of  tho 


#, 


THE  CHA.aVARI.  j^g 

l>ndegrooni  admittance  to  drrnt  fu    i,  -i  ,   , 

thcr,  A  to  receive  a  ce  ,  h .       '  '  "      '^'"'  '"^""'''  "  "'  "™ 

at  the  nearest  tavern  """"^  '°  '™'  "'«  •>      ' 

charged  .i.'h  peas  Z^  , t"  'j  '^'"  ^^  "--  «™%'  guns 
oid  pots  and  ket,les,  a,,;  bu  „ tr/l-"'"""'^'  ""'"« 
-asurea  tern.s.  Son^etij:'  hej  Co  o^^rT"  ''"  "^ 
seize  tinon  the  bridegroom  •  1,„  '^    "-'  ''<""''•  and 

naten,an,unders:Cru;nrnrT™ '"'""'''' ™'>f"«"- 
on  a  raiJ,  tarn.J  and  IZ  T  \  "  ""^^'^  ""-''"g  "*'•"• 
We  known  manv  &taf !     ^  '  ""''  °"'°™''''  ■»»'*'     '"d.    I 

f-itosa.isr;^dtir;;:~::^-7  '^- 

losttheirlivesintliefray-andnt^^,  °P'"'      ^"•<'" 

interfere,  and  put  downd,'         V         ''"  g°™'''"nent  should 

very  hard,  thafa .  oM  L'n  ™"  """"«'•  ^"^«'^'  "'  ^ 
*ming  to  take  him  wiZut  «k  T?  "  ^°™«  S"''  '^^ "''"  « 
a»  'l'«t.  What  2u.  ,""' '"•'""g  ">e  leave  of  sueh  a  rabble 
aai,.r  '  "«'"  '"'™  *'>y  '0  interfere  with  his  private 

at  siratSl.:!''  '"""^  "  '""^  ^^''i^"  '"^■•gnat.-on 

started  upon  a  favourite  subject  "a  ^^VT.  ,  «"'  '"'"■'•'>' 
acted  two  years  a«o  at  ti      ,f.       '^ ""'  '""<'■  """  ™s 

wife.  He  was  T.Cy  '^Zl  ''''■  ^~~  '"*  •"»  'h'^d 
ti.e  war  a  great  dJ^^f™ l^-^^f  ^-^  'p''.  -Oo  during 
and  married  a  younsr  h.nnd«!  !         ^'^  '"  •■'"  °'<i  age, 

-ne  lads  i,x  the^iw;  w"  ;  ,T       ""''  *°  '''"™"  ^s  house 

his  frolic.  This^xr;  :Trp '"  ^^^^  -^  "-^  ^» 

spend  the  honeymoon  ■•.  Toronto  bu  Z~  T,  "'''''  '» 
said  that  ■  he  was  not  gom^  to T;  u  ,"'"'^  '""«'"'''•  "»'' 
abiehomebythethreSn^:^;:^';-;;^^— t. 

he  was  married  at  the  church,  and  sp'eT the^^ly  aTZf 


i 


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MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


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^     x^PPLIED  IIVl/IGE 


Inc 


1653   East   Main   Street 

Rochester,   New  Yo-k         14609       USA 

(716)   482  -  0_.)0  -  Phone 

(716)   288  -  5989  -  Fax 


174 


HOUGIIIXG  IT  IN  THE  BUSK 


where  ho  entertained  a  large  party  of  his  own  and  the  bride's 
friends.  During  the  evening,  all  the  idle  chaps  in  the  town 
coliccted  about  the  house,  headed  by  a  mad  young  bookseller, 
who  had  offered  himself  for  their  captain,  and,  in  the  usual 
forms,  demanded  a  sight  of  the  bride,  and  liquor  to  drink  her 
health.     They  were  very   good-naturedly  received   by  INIr. 

P )  who  sent  a  friend  down  to  them  to  bid  them  welcome, 

and  to  inquire  on  what  terms  they  would  consent  to  let  lum 
off,  and  disperse. 

"  The  captain  of  the  band  demanded  sixty  pounds,  as  he, 
Mr.  P ,  could  well  afford  to  pay  it. 

'"That's  too  much,  my  fine  fellows!'     eried  Mr.  P 

from  the  open  window.  Say  twenty-five,  and  I  will  send  you 
down  a  cheque  upon  the  Bank  of  Montreal  for  the  money.' 

"'Thirty!  thirty!  thirty!  old  boy!'  roared  a  hundred 
voices.  '  Your  wife's  worth  that.  Down  with  the  cash,  and 
we  will  give  you  three  cheers,  and  three  times  three  for  the 
bride,  and  leave  you  to  sleep  in  peace.  If  you  hang  back,  wo 
will  raise  such  a  'larum  about  your  ears  that  you  sha'n't  know 
that  your  wife's  your  own  for  a  month  to  come !' 

" '  I'll  give  you  twenty-five,'  remonstrated  the  bridegroom, 
not  the  least  alarmed  at  their  threats,  and  laughing  all  the 
time  in  his  sleeve. 

'"Thirty;  not  one  copper  less!'  Here  they  gave  him 
such  a  salute  of  diabolical  sounds  that  he  ran  from  the  win- 
dow with  his  hands  to  his  ears,  and  his  friend  came  doA\Ti 
stairs  to  the  verandah,  and  gave  them  the  sum  they  required. 
They  did  not  expect  that  the  old  man  would  have  been  so 
liberal,  and  they  gave  him  the  '  Hip,  hip,  hip,  hurrah !'  in  fine 
style,  and  marched  off  to  finish  the  night  and  spend  the  money 
at  the  tavern." 

"And  do  people  allow  themselves  to  be  bullied  out  of 
theii-  property  by  such  ruffians  ?" 


TSB  CIlARlVAm.  j^g 

not  always  a  joke.  ^  '^' ""^  ^^^^  «  charivari  is 

to"H,ooci;  i/:;if:: ::::;:  r  ^'""" '-"' » •-«  -^"■■ 

P'cce  of  business,  and   attended   with"/  '"°''.'"^--«'> 
quences.     Some  of  the  ehnr ,  ^^  '*'™"^  "-n^^- 

■"ight  have  ended  their  dat^  ft'  '"'^  """  '"  "^^  "'^  ">^y 
"  Tliero  w,«  „         "^  ""J  s  m  the  penitentiary. 

am  «o  friend  to  the  black"  tr'  "n  ;'"'^''  '-""""S  "^'-  ' 
a  quiet,  good-natured  feUow' ard  f  '  "^i  ^'"""  ""'  ^"''" 
->"  got  a  good  businerr;  ,:;':,"  ^"^  ""'S'"?.  'hat  he 
old  elothes  until  they  looked  aln^  .  '  *°°'  "'"'  "'"""•'d 

"«-  a  ti.e  he  persuaded   'Cr'i::  T  "  "T     ^""• 
>«'as  not  a  bad-lookin.  Iri«h,v„r  ,      n>a"y  him.    She 

bewitched  the  creatur/to  ^^hta"'  ""'  '  ""''  ""'*  -l-' 

t-oJiittr^  ,t;r'  r  ™ "  ^-  -- 

his  presumption  and  he  follTIf  i'T--^  '"^'g^ant  at 
them  the  charivari  in  «„„  ,, '/'  ,  "''^  determined  to  give 
"-It  they  had  put  u;orth?£e:     '"""^'  ""■"  '^°"'  ^-'he 

-.  "7L°;:ttCs  frr  it '°- --  -  *« 

«'ggcr  from  his  bed,  and  in  so^e  V.-  ?'"' '"'''«  ">«  P""'' 
they  hurried  him  om  in  o  hT^M  af^  f™''^  '■°-  ">"ey, 
and  almost  naked  as  he  was  rod/v  ~^'"  "  ""'^  ^™'er_ 
-eated  him  that  he  died  unlrtirlr  "  '""'  ^"^  ^  '■»■ 

-  «ed:^  r;S:resSr-i 

other  side;  and  those  who  remTed      T  *"'''  '"""^  '»  *e 

----ring  them  to  trLrrrr;:^:^ 


J   1 


f  ^* 


176 


RvuamNa  it  in  the  bush. 


but  it  gave  great  uneasiness  to  several  respectable  families 
whose  sons  were  in  the  scrape." 

"  Good  heavens !  are  such  things  permitted  in  a  Oiris- 
tian  country  ?  But  scenes  like  these  must  be  of  rare  occur- 
rence  ?" 

"  Tliej  are  more  common  than  you  imagine.     A  man  was 

killed  up  at  W the  other  day,  and  two  others  danger- 

ously  wounded,  at  a  charivari.     The  bridegroom  was  a  man 
in  middle  life,  a  desperately  resolute  and  passionate  man,  and 
he  swore  that  if  such  riff-raff  dared  to  interfere  with  him  he 
would  shoot  at  them  with  as  little  compunction  as  he  would 
at  so  many  crows.   His  threats  only  increased  the  mischievous 
determmation  of  the  mob  to  torment  him  ;  and  when  he  re- 
fused  to  admit  their  deputation,  or  even  to  give  them  a  portion 
of  the  wedding  cheer,  they  determined  to  frighten  him  into 
compliance  by  firing  several  guns,  loaded  with  peas,  at  his 
door.     Their  salute  was  returned  from  the  chamber  window 
by  the  discharge  of  a  double-barrelled  gun,  loaded  with  buck' 
shot.     The  crowd  gave  back  with  a  tremendous  yell.     Their 
leader  was  shot  through  the  heart,  and  two  of  the  foremost  in 
the  scuffle  dangerously  wounded.     They  vowed  they  would 
set  fire  to  the  house,  but  the  bridegroom  boldly  stepped  to 
the  wmdow,  and  told  them  to  try  it,  and  before  they  could 
light  a  torch  he  would  fire  among  them  again,  as  his  gun  v 
reloaded,  and  he  would  discharge  it  at  them  as  long  as  one  oi 
them  dared  to  remain  on  his  premises. 

^  "  ^ey  cleared  off;  but  though  Mr.-  A was  not  pun- 
ished for  the  accident,  as  it  was  called,  he  became  a  marked 
man,  and  lately  lefl  the  colony,  to  settle  in  the  United  States. 
"  Why,  Mrs.  Moodie,  you  look  quite  serious.  I  can  how- 
ever,  tell  you  a  less  dismal  tale.  A  charivari  would  seldom 
be  attended  with  bad  consequences  if  people  would  take  it  as 
a  joke,  and  join  in  the  spree." 


^tlE  CIIARIVARI. 

"A  V017  dignified  proceorllnr.  c        ,  ^^'^ 

to  moke  tho,„.o,vo.  th!  S  f LeXf'?"^  '^^'^^g-n. 
^  "  Oh,  but  custom  reco„cil!r  f  !  ""''  P'^^'P''^  '■' 
bf'er  to  give  up  a  little  0  „ t  "1  t^™'^  "■"■^=  »^  '«^ 
of  our  f^llow-creatures.  I  ,a  "  b  „  ,  ?  ""'""Ser  the  Iivo3 
-e  Lower  Province,  who  tlok  fo  :"  "  ^'"--^"f  ^ '-"y  m 
young  fellow,  who,  ^s  (Hr  af  ht  ''  ''^°"<'  ^^'^^<^  " 

have  been  her  son.    Ihe  mob        "^^  '^'"  <^oneemed,  might 
-"y.-ng  her  effig,  in^CcX  "sf'  '".'""^^  ^*  -«'' 
J»ds,  with  white  favours  in  thelw'T''''^''  "^^  ^'^  young 
."■We,  amiJ  shouts  of  la  ghteranttL"     '^  •'"™''  "' 'p°» 
J-    opposite  her  drawi^g.™;^  ,f "     "r^P""™'"''. 
Hh  y  amused  by  the  whole  ^/'''-     ^°  ^'^"^  ™^ 
«--ely  let  them  have  their  owrw""  T'""^'''^^ ''"«  ■'h^ 
*ne  house,  and  she  bar    d   1"   2'  "™''  "  "  ^'^"^ 

^l'-.'tt.rs,  and  set  them  at  defial  '  '""  "'"'''^  "^^  -of 

-e:t"t:\:;t:tl«?;;:-^f  ^^-' ''v.ere 

^he^only  laughed  at  them  ""  *'''°^'^^1  """^io;  but 

Parts,aIad,'mLwevou7fel''w- ^hf^f  ''"■^'''  '■™'"  ""^^^ 
this,  and  she  invited  him  one  ev'enTnl'I^  .°T  ^''""'  "^^^  of 
party  at  her  house.    He  aecenteT7       """^  '"^^  ^*  "  ™all 
with  her  hearty  and  hos 3      ,      "'"'""^"'  ^"^  «'"'™ed 
-If  quite  at  hoL-  buTH"  i  Tr™''  ""'  ^°°"  ''"■"xi  him- 
fo.t  *„  the  sam'e  wlmt  ^TltT  '^  ""^'  '"^ 
front^of  the  lady's  house  I  '*'''*'^'  ^^  ^^^  "sual  hour,  in 

"'Oh,'  said  Mrs  R •]• 

come  our  friends.    RealJy  mTk     *""  ^''  ^"'^^'^^'  '^^^^ 


ff!  ^  j 


178 


ROUGHINQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


much  of  an  evening  that  I  should  feel  quite  dull  without 
them.' 

"  From  that  hour  tno  charivari  ceased,  and  the  old  lady 
was  loft  to  enjoy  the  society  of  her  young  husband  in  quiet. 

"  I  assure  you,  Mrs.  M -,  that  the  charivari  often  deters 

old  people  from  making  disgraceful  marriages,  so  that  it  is 
not  wholly  without  its  use." 

A  few  days  after  the  charivari  affair,  Mrs.  D stepped 

in  to  see  me.  She  was  an  American ;  a  very  respectable  old 
lady,  who  resided  in  a  handsome  frame  house  on  the  main 
road.     I  was  at  dinner,  the  servant-girl,  in  the  mean  while, 

nursing  my  child  at  a  distance.     Mrs.  D sat  looking  at 

me  very  seriously  until  I  concluded  my  meal,  her  dinner  hav- 
ing been  accomplished  several  hours  before.  When  I  had 
finished,  the  girl  gave  me  the  cliild,  and  then  removed  the  din- 
ner service  into  an  outer  room. 

"  You  don't  eat  with  your  helps,"  said  my  visitor.  "  Is 
not  that  something  like  pride  1" 

" It  is  custom,"  said  I ;  "we  were  not  used  to  do  so  at 
home,  and  I  think  that  keeping  a  separate  table  is  more  com- 
fortable for  both  parties." 

"  Are  you  not  both  of  the  same  flesh  and  blood  ?  The 
rich  and  the  poor  meet  together,  and  the  Lord  is  the  maker 
of  them  all." 

" True.  Your  quotation  is  just,  and  I  a& .ent  to  it  with  all 
my  heart.  There  is  no  difference  in  the  flesh  and  blood  ;  but 
education  makes  a  difference  in  the  mind  and  manners,  and, 
till  these  can  assimilate,  it  is  better  to  keep  apart." 

"  Ah  !  you  are  not  a  good  Christian,  Mrs.  Moodie.  The 
Lord  thought  more  of  the  poor  than  He  did  of  the  rich,  and 
He  obtained  more  followers  from  among  them.  Now,  we 
always  take  our  meals  with  our  people." 

Presently  after,  while  talking  over  the  aflfairs  of  our  house- 


THE  CL'AJilVAEL 


179 


Is 


of  milk.  ^  ^^'^^^'  """^  g'^^'e  a  great  deal 

land.  The  farm  that  hA!  ~~  '""'' ''""  ^'^  *°g<=^  m 
New  England  "a^t  But  7  "T^!"  '■"™^''  "  P"^'  "^  «"■• 
could  abfde  hintr-be';''/:;:".."^  «°"*'  ^"""-''  I  -er 

''ThtiL^littirifr''  »^  r  "^  *^  --" 

answered,  with  much  warmth  '         ~"  '  '  ^''''''''  ''''^  "^"^ 

difference  between  him  and       '^      eoJour  makes  the  onl^ 
^lass."  ""  ""^  'uneducated,  men  of  the  same 

.   "  f ''•  ^^"^^die  !"  she  exclaimed,  holding  un  h.r\.    a    - 
ftious  horror  "th^v  om  fi,     l-i  i        ""^^a^ng  up  her  hands  in 

-descended  :o2Z:X^^''  "'  "^  '"''  ''  """  "^^- 
-sjome  All^L':  »  ■7-'-"'  of  the  power  and  maj. 
■ant  fable  V      ^    ^"  "^ """  ^""  ''^"»™  '"  =»»''  an  igni 

i^vnllofL'^Lltrthr''";' '" "«"  ■^""s''""-  "'^'"^ 

"  Rnt  »ii  r-     r  '  ""'^  *'■''  descended  from  Cain  " 

«o«need  against  him  seems  tocL.    To  be  ,(,  '"''"'  ""•"■ 

vants  is  bad  enough,  without  our Tn^akiS  i  e  r'^S^"'"- 
by  our  eruel  persecutions.     Christ  cam!  *„      T    T    '^°'"' 


i-i 


,   ) 


'I 


180 


ROUOHINa  IT  IN  THE  BUSH 


people.    Do  you  not  admit  Mollineux  to  your  table  with  your 
other  helps  ?" 

"  Good  God  !  do  you  think  that  I  would  sit  down  at  the 
same  table  with  a  nigger?  My  helps  would  leave  the  house 
if  I  dared  to  put  such  an  affront  upon  them.  Sit  down  with  a 
dirty  black,  indeed !" 

"Do  you  think,  Mrs.   D ,  that  there  will  be  any 

negroes  in  heaven  ?" 

"Certainly  not,  or  I,  for  one,  would  never  wish  to  go 
there;"  and  out  of  the  house  she  saUied  in  high  disdain. 

Yet  this  was  the  woman  who  had  given  me  such  a  plausi- 
ble  lecture  on  pride.  Alas,  for  our  fallen  nature !  Which  is 
more  subversive  of  peace  and  Christian  fellowship—ignorance 
of  our  own  characters,  or  of  the  characters  of  others? 

Our  departure  for  the  woods  became  now  a  frequent 
theme  of  conversation.  My  husband  had  just  returned  from 
an  exploring  expedition  to  the  backwoods,  and  was  delighted 
with  the  prospect  of  removing  thither.  The  only  thing  I 
listened  to  in  their  praise,  with  any  degree  of  interest,  was  a 
lively  little  song,  which  he  had  written  during  his  brief  sojourn 
at  Douro. 


'^ns  LAND-JOBBER. 


181 


CHAPTER  Xll, 

THE   lAND-JODDER. 

chase  a  farm,  very  kindlvT'  '"«  *•""  '  ^i^h^d  to  pur 

cght  very  eligible  lots  of  eleared  ,fV''°^^^  "«  ^^ven  or 
good  houses  and  orchards-  bTf  r  '  """"  °'"  "-em  with 

I  '•ound  they  all  belong  to  h  Isr  'T  "  "*^^'  °"  '"^""•r. 
-ro  beyond  my  limited  mrnf^  t""' "°™°--.  the  price 
^1000;  for  another,  £1500  a„d  """  '^'™  ^e  asked 

other  quarters,  I  s*;  I  hadT  ,  ""^  '^"'^^  '"1"'™g  in 
that  neighbourhood  fo  the  "Lt"'',/ «^"'"S  "  '^^  m 
-Wch  was  only  about  ^X^lTi  f  "'  '°  P^^  ^°™. 
this  fact,  I  thought  it  thel^;er^  ""'"^"^  "^^^'^  "^  to 
•ny  very  obliging  friend,  Xseatrf"  """  *"  ™^--™ 
n>cely  adjusted  to  the  e  tiZr^    ^1'°™  ^^''^  '"'viously 

""o;'rmr^r™'""^  ~--     '"°™'' " ''"  °"° 

countenane^lTS^asfuLdren^^/""''  "^  ''"'"'J'^ 
and  I  almost  expected  that  he  "  ,  ?  "  '"""^  ''^^-^-'=. 
and  set  me  do™,  to  walk  wiroL  ^""^  ""'  Worses 
^011  be  supposed,  I  was  ne^^f  Xt  Tl"'"-  ^'  ">"/ 
-at  in  his  carriage.  Hesaw  jut^X  ^  """^'^  """  '^ 
saw  what  his  friendship  was  w"^  .'/.r'  ''°^'''  «»'»  ' 
qoaintauce  terminated.  '  ™^  *'"''  "^  brief  ae 


M 


'•  .1 


f    ( 


m 

hi 


182 


ROUOHINa  IT  IN  THE  BUSK 


rr 


Having  thus  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag,  when  I  might,  ao 
coi-ding  to  the  usual  way  of  the  world,  have  sported  for  a  while 
in  borrowed  plumage,  and  rejoiced  in  the  reputation  of  being 
in  more  prosperous  circumstances  without  fear  of  detection,  I 
determined  to  pursue  the  same  course,  and  make  use  of  the 
little  insight  I  had  obtained  into  the  ways  of  the  land-jobbers 
of  Canada,  to  procure  a  cleared  farm  on  more  reasonable 
terms. 

It  is  not  uncommon  for  the  land  speculators  to  sell  a  farm 
to  a  respectable  settler  at  an  unusually  low  price,  in  order  to 
give  n  character  to  a  neighbourhood  whore  they  hold  other 
lands,  and  thus  to  use  him  as  a  decoy  duck  for  friends  or 
countrymen. 

There  was  a  very  noted  character  at  C ,  Mr.  Q , 

a  great  land-jobber,  who  did  a  large  business  in  this  way  on 
his  own  account,  besides  getting  through  a  great  deal  of  dirty 
work  for  other  more  respectable  speculators,  who  did  not 
wish  to  drink  at  taverns  and  appear  personally  in  such  mat- 
ters.    To  Mr.  Q I  applied,  and  effected  a  purchase  of  a 

farm  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  acres,  about  fifty  of  which  were 
cleared,  for  £300,  as  I  shall  mention  more  particularly  in  the 
sequel.  In  the  mean  time,  the  character  of  this  distinguished 
individual  was— for  he  has  long  gone  to  give  an  account  of  his 
misdeeds  in  the  other  world— so  remarkable,  that  I  must  en- 
deavour to  describe  it  for  the  edification  of  the  reader.     Q , 

kept  a  shop,  or  store,  in  C ;  but  he  left  the  principal 

management  of  this  establishment  to  his  clerks;  while,  taking 
advantage  of  the  influx  of  emigrants,  he  pursued,  with  un- 
rivalled  success,  the  profitable  business  of  land-jobbing. 

In  his  store,  before  taking  to  this  business,  he  had  been 
accustomed  for  many  years  to  retail  goods  to  the  farmers  at 
high  prices,  on  the  usual  long  credit  system.  He  had  thus 
got  a  number  of  farmers  deeply  in  his  debt,  and,  in  many 


TUE  LAND-JOBBEIi. 
eases,  in  preference  to  suinr.  i\.        i    .  ^^^ 

money  owi„g  lo  l,i„,  ^^  ij",      "'^ '"""'>'  ••ce..vormg  ,l,o 

""  "Pl'^tunity  oocun-ed  to  rLo  1  h  ""■","■"""■  »''™ovcr 
"ew  comer.,.  Tl„,s,  besides  mtt  .""  '"'^"'"''g^u^  lo 
O"  >'■-  good,  he  oft  „  re  tedt'  f ,  '"'-'^  7  '""'  ""  »"'• 
on  l.«  land  specula.ions.  ""  "'""  "  ''""'''■-''  Pcr  cent. 

In  a  new  country,  whore  (!,„-„  • 
•nercantile  bu^'nei,  „aZlZ     •"  ""  ^""''  ~"'Petitfon  in 

"i  the  most  grasping  of  this  class      7  •    ,        ^ ""»  ™« 

encd,  and  his  consdenee  lile  g  „  j!':'"""  «- -se-hard- 
fetch,  on  the  shortest  not.ce  tH  °'."  ^'^''^  '■«'«''V 
his  well-tutored  eountenanerbct  a  "ed  T'^  "'^'"'  ^'"■'« 
Mas  passing  i„  his  nn'nd  But  T\  '"''™""''  o*"  »•''«' 
sketch  of  the  appearan  ;,  or  o  Cd  '"'  '"'■«"''  '°  «'™  ^  ' 
gifted  individual.  """^  ■"""'  o»'  this  highly. 

wi«tri:JrtS"r  ""■"  r  '"""-■  -  -<^ 

and  Yankees.    He  hadT     d.^ro:    I,''""""™  ^''"''*''- 
long,  thin  neelc  was  cont  ™,  ,     ?  '".'"'  ■■''"'"'*'-^.  ""J  his 
while  his  restless  little  crr'-Ler'^^'  ""'  """"'"  ''"" 
search  of  prey.     His  face,  wte„  ^!,  T:/T'"«  «h"nt  in' 
to  lus  seliish  and  unfeeii,  g  so"/""  ^''?".'''  ^"^  »  index 
except  that  Bempiternau/.nduri„^  r?  'T"  ''"  '""'  "«"«. 
^•h.eh  is  acquired  by  e^po^  .r.  an J7 /f  ^"''•"'*"^  °>i««'-e 
«n<l  the  corners  of'^his'e^Ct         f'f '■"^-    «'^*eks 
curved  lines,  and,  like  mTs  ^"^10"  V  ""  -""""^  "' 
had  a  long,  crooked  chin,  and  thlt  If  ''""""'  "-•  "» 
sl'ghtly  aquiline  nose,  which   hi       '^  ,     ^  P'-°™inent  and 

indications,  has  been  call  d  "ufe  r?  -  '"'''™'"  "'^  »"«h 

the  rogue's  nose."    But  hovr 


m 


II 


184 


ROUOIUNO  IT  m  THE  BUSH 


shall  I  (lescrihe  his  cyc-that  smull  hole  through  which  you 

mn  see  an  honest  man's  hourt?     Q 's  eye  was  like  no 

other  rye  I  had  ever  seen.     His  fare  and  mouth  could  assume 
a  good.i  Uured  expression,  and  smile;  hut  his  eye  was  still 
the  same-,/  never  smiled,  but  remained  cold,  hard,  dry,  and 
niscrutahle.     If  it  had  any  expression  at  all,  it  was  an  unhappy 
one.     Such  were  the  in^pressions  created  hy  his  appearance 
when  the  observer  was  unobserved  by  him ;  for  he  had  thJ 
art  of  concealing  the  worst  traits  of  his  character  ui  an  ex- 
traordniary  degree,  and  when  he  suspected  that  the  curious 
hieroglyphics  which  Nature  had  stamped  on  his  visage  were 
too  closely  scanned,  he  knew  well  how  to  divert  the  inves- 
tigator's  attention  to  some  other  object. 

He  was  a  humorist,  besides,  m  his  way,  because  he  found 
that  jokes  and  fun  admirably  served  his  turn.  They  helped 
to  throw  people  off  their  guard,  and  to  conceal  his  hang-do., 
look.  °     •=» 

He  had  a  hard  head,  as  well  as  a  hard  heart,  and  could 
stand  any  quantity  of  drink.  His  drinking,  however  like 
every  thing  else  about  him,  had  a  motive ;  and,  instead  of 
trying  to  appear  sober,  like  other  drunkards,  he  rather  wished 
to  appear  a  little  elevated.  In  addition  to  his  other  acquire- 
ments, Q was  a  most  accomplished  gambler.     In  short 

no  virtuous  man,  who  employs  every  passing  moment  of  hig 
short  life  in  doing  good  to  his  fellow-creatures,  could  be  more 
devoted  and  energetic  in  his  endeavours  to  serve  God  and 

mankind,  than  Q was  in  his  endeavours  to  ease  them  of 

their  spare  cash. 

He  possessed  a  great  deal  of  that  free-and-easy  address  and 
tact  which  distinguish  the  Canadians ;  and,  in  addition  to  the 
current  coin  of  vulgar  flattery  which  is  found  so  useful  in  all 
countries,  his  quick  eye  could  discover  the  high-minded  gen- 
tleman  by  a  kind  of  instinct,  wliich  did  not  seem  quite  natural 


to  his  sordid  chamcfor  •  nr.  i  i        .  ^ 

«o  be  taken  by  vu    "Lj    ) u,       r'""  """  "*  ""^  "«  ""t 

«e™rc.     Thus  he  ;ri^I      ,,         '  !'"   """^''  "™   -"'"vl/ 

fcig..ed  kindness  and  „nl  "^     ,7™  '^'"''  "■'"'«  "-'^  ^«"- 

debtors,  would  toll  .reutri„       r'  ^  ^"""'  '"  '''»  '»"""^-"=' 
Mv  fi,-f  •  °        "^       '"^  wvour. 

«-  ^h„ro  to  n>eo\  ,„;  M  t ;  rr'^i:";^  "^'t'"  """•  ^ 

vourablo  feeling  wore  off  in  «         T'  '''"«"'  "'«  ""<;'- 

the  best  society  of  the  place  I  h""  ^'^'■'"','  "'"'  '"""'«  •>""  in 
"-oe  belied  bL,  and  /^L^: ';;'!*  ">-  '"»  countc 
suspicions.  '  "'>'"'''^'"'' my  ungenerous 

reeling  a  certain  seeuritv  in  tbo  „„  u 
'opitol,  I  did  not  hesitate  in  !    .  '"''"  °'^'"-''  "™"*1« 

"-  a  farm,  particu  iHy  a    l^^'f '"«  '°  ^''-  «—  'o  sell 

induce  me  to  settle  near  c!ll.r,r™  °^  *"''  "'^''^  «o 
I  told  him  that  £300  was  the  wrv  i      '""°""'''''""^^  ^'"ted. 

for  a  farm,  and  that,  if  I  ctid  n.  '"^r'  '"""  '  ™""  S'™ 
I  ^hou_Mjoi„  „,  «ends  i '  tf  bact  oS's  ""  '°^  "-^^  P™"' 

Minute.,  ^z:z^!:z  at  """i^r-''-^  ^-  ^  '•- 

«-  that  price,  partieularly  "    he  wTb'  T  "''  ''"  ™"''^  »"  -« 
Yankee  rascals  who  prcventeV.  °  «''  ""^  '""  »  ^«t  of 

-ighbonrhood.     Wo'Xri™~rt?  """"«  '"  '^^' 
.ood^on  for  the  character  he  g^e  ^^1^2^^!^ 

oe«nktt  seTefSr i::  ?,  »  ^^^  ^^'™-.  -  a 
a  debt  incurred  for  goods  at  his  stor.lT?  ^'  '"'''''-^^  ^"" 

mst^tly  struck  Q-^  that  hZ    iT      ^ '     ^^'  ^^ea 

^  tliat  he  would  compel  Joe  H to 


I*: 

'/ 


^f 


180 


BOUGEim  IT  m  THE  BTJSH. 


sell  h,m  his  farm,  by  threatening  to  foreclose  the  mortgage    I 

drove  out  with  Mr.  Q „ext  day  to  see  the  farm  fn  qu"e.,. 

tion      It  was  situated  in  a  pretty  retired  valJey,  surrounded 

by  hils,  about  eight  miles  from  C ,  and  about  a  mile 

from  the  great  road  leading  to  Toronto,  Tliere  was  an  exten- 
sive  orchard  upon  the  farm,  and  two  log  houses,  and  a  largo 
iraanc  barn.  A  considerable  portion  of  the  cleared  land  was 
light  and  sandy;  and  the  uncleared  part  of  the  farm,  situated 
on  the  flat,  rocky  summit  of  a  high  hill,  was  reserved  for  "  a 
sugar  bush,"  and  for  supplying  fuel.  On  the  whole,  I  was 
pk-ased  with  the  farm,  which  was  certainly  cheap  at  the  price 
ot  i.dOO ;  and  1  therefore  at  once  closed  the  bargain  with  Mr. 

At  that  time  I  had  not  the  slightest  idea  but  that  the  farm 
actually  belonged  to  the  land-jobber;  and  I  am,  to  this  day 
unable  to  tell  by  what  means  he  succeeded  in  getting  Mr.' 

^^ to  part  with  his  property. 

The  father  of  Joe  II had  cleared  the  farm,  and  while 

the  soil  was  new,  it  gave  good  crops ;  but  as  the  rich  surface 
or     black  muck,"  as  it  is  called,  became  exhausted  by  con-' 
tmiial  cropping,  nothing  but  a  poor,  meagre  soil  remained. 

The    early  settlers  were  wretched  farmers  ;    they  never 
ploughed  deep  enough,  and  never  thought  of  manuring  the 
and.     After  working  the  land  for  several  years,  they  would 
let  It  he  waste  for  three  or  four  years  without  sowing  grass- 
seeds,  and  then  plough  it  up  again  for  wheat.     The  greater 
part  of  the  hay  raised  on  these  firms  was  sold  in  the  towns 
and  the  cattle  were  fed   during  the  long  severe  winter  on 
wheat-straw.      The  natural  result  of  this  poor  nourishment 
was,  that  their  cattle  continually  degenerated,  and  great  num- 
bers died  every  spring  of  a  disease  called  the  "  hollow  horn  " 
which  appears  to  be  peculiar  to  this  country.  When  the  lands 
became  sterile,  from   this  exliausting  treatment,  they  wcro 


THE  LAND-JOBBER 
called  «wom-out/)„.ns."  and  fhn  ^®^ 

o  new  settles  W  tL  /etrr  T"^"^  ^^^^  ^h- 
they  received,  bought  a  lar  J  T  '^'  """^  '"^^  ^he  money 
-de  for  their  sons  b;^  !,  T  '  ''  "^'^^  ^'-^«'  ^<^  P- 
^as  recommenced.  '^^'  '"^^^«  improvident  process 

These  eai-Jy  seulers  were  in  f  ..f       , 
n^ore  thrift,  class  of  settlers  '  '"'^  ''^  ^^^^  P'^^^ers  to  a 

«^oe  11. .  or  "  U    I     T 

aV  acqnaintan'eo,  after  rfashion  t,"'°  '?™"'^  P"°P'« '-■^" 
«'e  Dutci.  settlors  of  ,ho  St,      rf  N^  v'1'  "°  ''"■""•  «-" 
his  habits  „or  industry   JiCv  f  1         "'''■  ™^'  "<■"'*«•  i'T 
"nn  his  neighbours  of  fh„'  '  ^   ;,  X"™"  "-«  P-osperouI 
l">d  worthed  hard  in  his  timelL  n^f  f  °'""'-    "'»  «'<''«r 
good  right  to  enjoy  himself     The  "        "  "'""S"' ''«  '""I  " 
five  miles  from  his  place  and^t       ""''  ""^««  ™«  only 
excuse  forgoing  thither  ev^erf    loT.  ™™''  """<""  »omo 
«   shoeing,  or  his   pW„   o^      "  *'^-'-     "'» ''".e 
fi-ed-bythoblaeksmitho.  J^Il™   ™°""  ^™"*"'  "'o  bo 
he  ca,„o  hon:.o  "pretty  IcX^^l  ^^  »  "^tterof  eonrse, 
hab.  of  pouring  a  halftu„r  L  o/  '"  ^^  '"  "-  constan 
^tendjng  bolt  upright  at  tho  b  rof  Z  T''^^  "-«'  '>-  ".rout, 
:^o"W  drinic  about  the  same  lar  ^    7"'"'  """^  *'"•'■''  he 
'  down.     Uese  habits,  togeth  ,   w  fi  1  ""''  '"'''''  '"  wash 
lazy,  slovenly  helpmate,  in  TtZ^'        "'  '"™''"S'  ""d  a 

oee^-rt:;i1,^::£!l^^--hisfarm,Ihadoaen 
ccr,es  and  other  necessariea  Tjl  ^"T"  "^  ''"J"'g  g™- 
*ro  of  Mr.  Q .     On  tl," so  1         '^""^^^  *™.  ""ho 

«.=-  ^  — . .;:  s,*  ri'";']  ~" 

•^  on  the  boarded  platform, 


It  * 

I'       f 


188 


BouGEma  IT  m  the  bush. 


or  stoop, '  in  front  of  the  house,  welcoming  his  guests  in  his 
omi  peculiar  free-and-easy  style,  looking  after  their  horses, 
and  seeing  that  his  people  were  attentive  to  their  duties, 
hmk  I  see  him  now  before  me,  with  his  thin,  erect, 
latny  figure,  his  snub  nose,  and  puckered-up  face,  wrigalinfr 
and  twisting  himself  about,  in  his  desire  to  please  his^'cuf 
tomers. 

Oa  Stopping  in  front  of  the  tavern,  shortly  after  our  settle- 

ment  on  the  farm,  Mr.  S stepped  up  to  me,  in  the  most 

famihar  manner  imaginable,  holding  out  his  hand  quite  coii- 
descendingly,_"Ah,  Mister  Moodie,  ha-a~w  do  you  do  ^ 
— ha — a— w's  the  old  woman  P 

At  first  I  could  not  conceive  M-hom  he  meant  by  this  vei-y 

tl?b'''if  f  r  '  '''  '  ^'"^  ^™P^^  -^^^  h-  -hat 
lishment  '"'  ''  ^  "  ''"  ^^^  ''''^^''  "^  "^^  ^^^^ 

"Why,  your  old  woman,  to  be  sure-your  missus-Mrs 
Moodie,  I  guess.     You  don't  quite  understand  our  languagj 

"  O !  now  I  understand  you ;  she's  quite  well,  I  thank  you  • 
and  how  IS  our  friend  Mrs.  S_  !»  I  replied,  laying  a  slight 
emphasis  on  the  Mrs.,  by  way  of  a  gentle  hint  for  his  future 
guidance. 

Shi' Jfr  ^TT;  ]  ^^''  '^^''  '"'^^*'  P"^*-*3^  considerable. 
Shell  be  right  glad  to  see  you,  for  you're  pretty  considerable 
of  a  fayour-^^.  with  her,  I  tell  you;  but  now  tell  me  what  you 
will  drink  ?_for  it's  my  treats 

As  he  said  these  words,  he  strutted  into  the  tavern  before 
me  throwing  his  head  and  shoulders  back,  and  rising  on  his 
tiptoes  every  step.  ^ 

Mrs  S-—  had  been  a  very  hanasome  woman,  and  still 
retained  „,h  of  her  good  looks.  She  was  a  most  exemplary 
housewife  and  manager.    I  was  often  astonished  to  witne^ 


! 

I 


TSE  LAND-JOBBER. 
the  incessant  toil  shn  1,0/1  ^        ,  ^^^ 

-•-ch  a  «„-.  , '  .f  L:;:2°;"^'-  '^  ""^"^'S  '»  *e  .ants 
She  had  p,_  ;,y  of  j,,;^^ 

•W  as  much  of  cookery  as  tI,ov!l.-r"'  """  '^'^J 

requisition.  '       '"""  "^  ''<"•  head,  were  in  constant 

white  hands.  Mrs.  sl_  1  T*"*  T"'''  ^P°"  'heir  soft, 
Bot  expect  to  keep  such  fai;  cl/  ',  '^'^  *■'"'  ^I"^  ~uld 
-ntry  a.  Canada,  and,  a  co":^"^  "•"  ^^-^  "  --^^g 
d'vmes,  she  held  those  blessing,  °ih  a  !,  'T°"  '■■"'"™  <"" 

There  was  one  sweet  liffir,,      °"' ''""'^• 
h-  father's  arms,  wiftle     oM^      "  '  ''"''  "'^^  -»  « 
aglets  hanging  i;,  All^l^,:^'l:.  ""^  '^^ '«"« ''"'"■™ 

"  I  guess  she  likes  pa,  w' m^I''  '"^  ^''^Mers. 
remarked  her  fondness  for  him  '^""''^  ''''y  ^^en  I 

^he  wa:  oS  ttrx:  :iTt  «™t  '■°^  ™™.  »<i  though 

«me  at  the  door  o fo  r  int  I"  '  ^'  '''  ""  """^  -«  ^ 
and  would  afterwards  sing  al  th"  .■""  ,"'  ^'"^  ™  ""^  «"'«. 
swe^etest  voice  in  the  worid  ""^  P'*°<^  "P.  '^'A  the 

sHefe7-nE:;:;  Tti:[^  uf '"r  ""^  "— 
^here  M^.  S__'was  "rled.'?  ?  ""^  ^^""''d  States, 
and  I  have  never  met  with  woln  •'  ™""'^  ^"^P^^'""" 
elsewhere,  wl,o  possessed  LIZIL  T/'"*"  "'^  ^»'='«y' 
rusrve  manners  which  sh"„M  ,  tt  T"'^'  ""°^ 
fannly  of  (his  worthy  tavern-keeper  ^       "^'°'  "^"  "'  'he 

higher  standing  in  society  from  F„  f  ^  """'  ladies  of  a 
-- house  at  the  same  tii/:ia::;-:~i 


190 


Bovomyg  it  in  the  nusn. 


ber  their  .nsolent  way  of  giving  their  orders  to  Mrs  S 

and  the,r  st.ll  n^ore  wounding  eondeseension-I  eonfess  I  ean-' 
not  bu.  feel  ,.,si.a,ncd  of  my  countrywomen.  AH  these  patro". 

mu  d.  of  those  worthy  people  with  an  idea  of  their  vast  su 
penoruy  I  have  sometimes,  I  eonfess,  been  a  little  anny'd 
vlnV  r  r"^  "^  *'  Americans,  Canadians  as  well  as 
Yankees;  but  I  must  say  that  cxperienee  has  taught  m  ^o 
blame  myself  at  least  as  mueh  as  them.  If,  inste.fd  of  s  nd 
mg  our  youthful  aristocraey  to  the  continent  of  Europe,  to  ta 
the  ,jat,ves  v,.th  contempt  and  increase  the  unpopula rit^  of 
the  nr,,.sh  abroad,  while  their  stock  of  native  aLlnce  is 

wt  ;  ■  *'  "'"^'"^  ^"""P'^'^"-  °f  ">°-  -ho  only 
bow  to    heir  super,ority  in  wealth,  they  were  sent  to  the 

United  States,  or  even  to  Canada,  they  would  receive  a  lesson 
or  two  whieh  would  be  of  infinite  service  to  them;  some  of 
then-  most  repulsive  prejudices  and  peculiarities  w^uld  soon 
be  rubbed  off'  by  the  rough  towel  of  democracy 

It  IS  curious  to  observe  the  remarkable  diversity  in  the  ac 
counts  given  by  recent  emigrants  to  this  countrv    of  tlie,> 
reatment  and  of  the  manners  and  character  of  Jhe  peol 

1  t\    r''  "f  ^  ""  '"  ^^"""^     S°-»  mee   wit'h  c'on 
Stat  kindness,  others  with  nothing  but  rudeness  and  brut". 

ity.     Of  course  there  is  truth  in  both  accounts ;  but  str,n"e«, 
>m  an  aristoeratical  country  do  not  usually  make  suE 
allowance  for  the  habits  and  prejudices  of  a  pe^pl "rf  1    " 

rtv  :yr  :  f""f"-^«™'^^i-i  d-«butionof  p  j 

erty  and  the  certam  prosperity  attend.,nt  on  industrv  tlf„ 
whole  constitution  of  society  is  necessirilv  deL  ,  7'- 
spectively  of  political  instit'utio  r  ^0^  tlo  T  '  '  T 
cotntry  with  the  notion  that  they  will  carlv  tt  V°  H  " 
them  by  means  of  pretence  and' ll:  L^  :  itl  ^  r 
pelves  grievously  deceived.     To  use  a  home'ly  iUus^ation;; 


THE  LAND-JOBBER. 


191 


;<^ 


i»  just  as  irrational  to  expect  to  force  a  largo  body  thro, 
sma  1  aperture,     k  both  cases  they  wiU  meet  with  unyie 

resistance.  v  ^»- 

When  a  poor  .nd  industrious  mechanic,  farmer  or  la 
acquisition  of  property  inrl  fr.  fi,    u       n     "/^^^^  ^<^'^<^  ^o  the 

than  for  their  ^preL;;rir;r  t;:;L:r™'*^^ 
rCi.:  i:?r:  i^i  --«:r;K.: 

ope:.io„1hatltrt:nr2^^:'\^''  '^".^■•""^ '"  *'^ 
before  he  is  aware  that  he  Z  ^l^  ''"'"''  '^'^ 

ca„!^r  ryte  t:  tmrtr-^*^  '"'^-''  ■•- 

away,  while  wealth  is  sHer  X  t'oTdler:  1^  ""'  "'" 
fedustrious  settler  The  .1,7  f,  I  ,  '°  ""  P°"  ""^ 
ter  is  an  unwil  "ss^:  Zl  1"  /'f  ''"""*""  ^''"■■- 
and  talent,  ho.eve        p^Xt  '  t™^  "'  ''^"'"•'°" 

tion.  ,n  .his  respect  tn:tHt:nhVur/sr^"- 

greatly  snpe^ior  to  the  Canadians,  beeru  „  th  ;   'rTet::: 
equality  amon,  them  is  ol^^ ^Xl^tra^r 


W 


I 


.<^- 


!l 


% 


i 

It: 

'Ml     , 

: 

1 

?  ■ 

1 

1 

192 


Bommm  it  in  the  busb. 

"^tal  superiority,  whether  natural 


701 


ready  to  show  respect 
or  acquired. 

My  evcrags  on  vMtin.  C .,,.  „,„,„  ^^  ^ 

S_-stoven,,whcreI™s.;....,,„  „-»,^  with\he.»xi,.lv 

of  characters  who  were  there  asse,.,„„i,  ,„j  ,,,,.  ,V,-.^  M,  • 
free-and-easy  famiharity  of  the  colonial  !vmnr,.r»  l',.;  i;,,.,. 
chance  of  concealing  their  peculiarities  from  an  attentive  olC 
server. 

^     Mr.  Q ,  of  course,  was  always  to  be  found  there,  drink- 

ing,  smoking  cigars,  and  cracking  jokes.     To  a  casual  observer 
he  appeared  to  be  a  regular  boon  companion,  without  an  ob- 
ject  but  that  of  enjoying  the  passing  hour.     Among  his  nu- 
merous  accomplishments,  he  had  learnt  a  number  of  sleight- 
of-hand   tricks  from  the  travelling  conjurors  who  visit   the 
country,  and  are  generally  willing  to  sell  their  secrets  singly 
at  a  regulated  price.     This  seemed  a  curious  investment  for 
Q— ,  but  he  knew  how  to  turn  every  thing  to  account.    Bv 
such  means  he  was  enabled  to  contribute  to  the  amusement 
of  the  company,  and  thus  became  a  kind  of  favourite      If  he 
could  not  manage  to  sell  a  lot  of  land  to  an  immigi-ant  or 
speculator,  he  would  carelessly  propose  to  some  of  the  com- 
pany to  have  a  game  at  whist  or  loo,  to  pass  the  time  away  • 
and  he  never  failed  to  conjure  most  of  their  money  into  his 
pockets. 

At  this  tiine  a  new  character  made  his  appearance  at 

t— ,  a  Mr.  B ,  an  English  farmer  of  the  true  yeoman 

breed.     He  was  a  short-legged,  long-bodied,  corpulent  little 
man.     He  wore  a  brown  coat,  with  ample  skirts,  and  a  vast 
expanse  of  vest,  with  drab-coloured  small-clothes  and  gaiters 
B—  was  a  jolly,  good-natured  looking  man,  with  an  easy 
blunt  manner  which  might  easily  pass  for  honesty. 

Q          had  sold  him  a  lot  of  wild  land  in  some  out-of-the- 
way  township,  by  making  Mr.  B believe  that  he  could 


Tins  LAxn-joBisfm.  \^ 

^ell  it  again  very  „x,n,  witK  a  hanj^ome  prof,,,     of  „,ur«„ 
h.»  bargam  was  not  a  goo<l  one.     He  J„  fo„nd  fi-om  i, 
s,tuat,o„  tl,.at  the  land  was  qni.e  .m.alcablo,  thore  iZ  no 

tTr  Tt'  ''".'^'"•'^"'■''"''^'-'^dgcd  that  Q ,.as  ^;^^^ 

ter  at  a  borga.n,  and  gave  him  full  credit  for  hi,  addres,  ,nd 
c«nn,ng,  and  qnietly  resolved  in  his  own  mind  to  profitw'  hf 
lesson  he  had  received.  ^ 

Now  with  all  their  natural  acuteness  and  habitual  detter- 
ity  m  such  matters,  the  Canadians  have  one  weak  point  Tw 
ore  too  ready  to  believe  thnt  1?„  r  v  '^       '    ""^ 

A 11  ,!.„»  .  Englishmen  are  made  of  monev 

All  that  an  em.grant  has  to  do  to  acquire  the  reputation  o^' 

anxiety  for  the  future,  and  to  maintain  a  certain  decm,rnf  " 
J-erve    „  talking  of  his  private  affairs.     Mr  B-^pcrflct!" 
.  nderst^od  how  to  play  his  cards  with  the  land-iobb'r    I'd 
h,s  fa^jolly  physiognomy,  and  rustic,  provincial  LnneV,  and 
accent,  greatly  assisted  him  in  the  deception 

B_'tl,f !J  ^~7  ''•'°^'  ''™  »•"  «"  '°°''  "'  -3i«"e™t  farms 
B—.  talked  carelessly  of  buying  some  "lame"  block  of 

land,  that  would  cost  him  some  £3000  or  £4000  L    r      u 

-Id  only  find  the  kind  of  soil  he  ZZ2^ZTtC 

«».  !n^romotinrhrj2:t^s;::t':hfrri: 

therefore  puffed  Mr.  B—  „p  to  every  body  as  a  Norf"k 
farmer  of  large  capital,  and  always  apjialed  to  himtt, 
firm  the  character  he  gave  of  any  form  he  wished  to  seH  r.." 
new  comer.    B  on  his  side,  was  not  slowin  pi  ying  H 

<J        s  hand  on  these  occasions,  and  without  bein.  at  all 
suapected  of  collusion.  " 

of  ttt ''™"'"''  ^'''  ^—  "'"•"''  ''»"' '"'°  *e  public  room 
of  the  tavern,  apparently  fatigued  with  his  exertions  through 


ill 


li 


^sca0sr 


194 


noUQHlNQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


nobod,,  „obo;;:ate':  f^7C""S  "  "^■■''''  "  '  ^'^  ^» 
man  forO ^^    H«  i  '°'  ^^       T''  ™^  J"«'  'he  kind  of 

-e  ,d,;a„d  4:~Lrr^:rb?r"wr 

B—  made  hi,  first  appearance  in  tl>e  ^v  °i„»  Q  '" 

xoldom  at  the  tavern,  for  hin  time  had  not T  ^mrT  T 

mean  while,  B was  sur^  tn  ).»  7  ''^  '     '"  *« 

vcrsation  b;  some  eXln  !     .         "™  ^'"^™"^  '"">  «»"- 

ing  eertain  farms  which  they  tho„I     :f  ptcZr"  X' 
was  such  an  appearance  of  blunt  AmrXAiTTT^'  ' 

him,  that  most  of  these  i.,quitnhl2  hi      T' *'"''' 
his  own  interests  in  ^^l^^^ ^1  ^7l'Zr,^X7 

particular,X«:Lor«:!:?r''"''^^^     '-^  "« -O"'" 
nary  advantages  bTwhiTl!  ^  ""  P'''^'™^  '^''""^di- 

renLed  it  nSe  for  t         T'  ""'  '5'««J™»tage  which 

oumstance  whfcf  in  i7 '2h-,v    "^  '"'"^  "^  ™^"'  '^  -'■- 
another  descni  of  Lftkr''"'"""^''  ^^"""-""^  "  »<> 

by  B^"'b':  7  tf "  '^—  '"^  °'  --  "°t  deceived 
n^  dt^eWlT^i--^^^^^^^^^^^^^        as  a  decoy,  he 

with  a  very  handsome  profit  B  ^  '"'""'  °^  "'  '"""'• 
were  proh^Uy  -trem?  J.^^^  X^^ -'>- '»'=- 
after  looking  at  a  number  of  fa™  ,t  o[d  Q  ""f 
mature  reflection,  he  thought  he  could  em»ovt.^.^  '    " 


ibutton  hfs 
took  little 
liis  whole 
I  care  for 
e  kind  of 
an  invalu- 
5.  When 
! ■  waa 

e.  In  the 
into  con- 
as  a  prac 
a  respect- 

f.  There 
ter  about 
brgetting 
.    In  the 
»s  he  had 
^e  would 
xtraordi- 
?e  which 
til,  a  cir- 
nd  it  to 

leceived 
Jcoy,  he 
3  farms, 
I  means 
g;  and 
hat,  on 
J  more 
?  them 
answer 
)nce  in 


THE  LAND-JOBBER,  j^- 

Wither  paid  rent  nor /ages  ^       *"'  °™  ''<'^'"'^<'.  &'  he 

-^"att;r-;^:^--  ^-^  --^  -^ 

and  thorn.    Ono  of  th„  '■'""'=;^»'"d  be  played  between  Q 

not  own  somo"  ani  n Vrrul"  '^"""'  "*  '""'"^  ''^''  ''^ 
had  bought  some  lots  ^017;  "V"  "'""-^'  "'  ''« 
them,  and  would  lil<e  to  know  if  .hev^  '  f"""'  """"'^ 

would  answer  in  the  afiirmat7v  and^d'Ll  "^^  "'"^ 
chase  the  lots  mentioned.  The  formerL  h  "■'  '°  P""- 
tend  reluctanee,  and  make  a  sLrirnf'l  ™'  ^""^  ^^^ 
cumiing  manceuvTina  woul^  f^-'ar  offer  of  bujmg.    All  this 

hope  of  inducing  ZTmilT""'''  '"'  "  ""«• '»  'he 

*rfortheiand!whiehwo:idb':rirTo;'°r^'" 

that  some  other  person  wt,„  h.A  . t?'^"'"-  •"  "ft™  happened 
course  of  these  eCrCL  15'*^  "*^"  "°  ^'^  ^  "-e 
personal  interest  .n  the       t  "  ''^^"'''^  '<>  have  no 

"trunger  tha^^  e  Jw te  ra^d  '  "°'"'  '"'^"^  "«'™  ^e 
of  the'very  best  ^ly'  '"'''  '"  '>"^^«°"'  »<>  that  it  was  all 

them.  'P^'-lators  to  mduce  persons  to  purchase  from 

Besides  a  few  of  these  unprincinle^  h..  j       •    , 
of  whom  are  found  in  mostTfT^fr  T  '"  ^''^'  =°™» 

number  of  land-speclto  s  who  ol  bT' '  r  ""  "  '•"•^'' 
farms  in  all  parts'of  the  colIn;  X  TnoT^  and  improved 

discreditable  arts,  but  wait  qij  untU    L  T"/  '^  ""''' 
valuable  by  the  Droffre«  «f  •         ''^  *'"'"'  '"""^^  hecome 

hood,  when'the^rZrfindZr""'  "  "■-"-ghbour- 

chasers  find  them  ouf anS  obtettrTV'*"'  *'"'  P"- 
prices.  '  **■"  *'•«"■  'ands  at  reasonable 


»-»  4.;m^w«»™»'i'».'imBa.'Mlill8"'- 


190 


JiOUGUINQ  IT  IN  THE  BU.in. 


In  1832,  when  we  came  to  CanaJu,  u  great  speculation  waa 
carried  on  in  the  lands  of  the  U.  E.  (or  United  Empire)  Loy- 
olists.  The  sons  and  daughters  of  these  loyalists,  who  had 
fled  to  Canada  from  the  United  States  at  the  time  of  the  revc 
lutionary  war,  wore  entitled  to  free  grants  of  lots  of  wild  land 
Besides  these,  few  free  grants  of  land  were  made  by  the  BritJ 
ish  Government,  except  those  made  to  half-payofficers  of  the 
army  and  navy,  and  of  course  there  was  a  rapid  rise  in  their 
value. 

Almost  aU  the  persons  entitled  to  such  grants  had  settled 
m  the  eastern  part  of  the  Upper  Province,  and  as  the  large 
emigration  which  had  commenced  to  Canada  had  chiefly 
flowed  into  the  more  wrestern  parts  of  the  colony,  they  were, 
in  general,  ignorant  of  the  increased  value  of  their  lands,  and 
were  ready  to  sell  them  for  a  mere  trifle.  They  were  bought 
by  the  speculators  at  from  26'.  Qd.  to  S*.  9d  per  acre,  and 
often  for  much  less,  and  were  sold  again,  with  an  enormous 
profit,  at  from  5*.  to  20^.,  and  sometimes  even  40^.  per  acre 
according  to  their  situation.  ' 

As  to  personally  examining  these  lands,  it  was  a  thing 
never  thought  of,  for  their  price  was  so  low  that  it  was  almost 
impossible  to  lose  by  the  purchase.     The  supply  of  U.  E. 
Loyalists'  lands,  or  claims  for  land,  for  a  long  time  seemed  to 
_  be  almost  inexhaustible;  for  the  loyal  refugees  appear  to  have 
been  prolific  beyond  all  precedent,  and  most  of  tliose  who 
held  ofiice  at  the  capital  of  the  province,  or  who  could  com- 
mand a  small  capital,  became  speculators,  and  throve  prodi- 
giously.   Many  persons,  during  the  early  days  of  the  colony 
were  thus  enriched,  without  risk  or  labour,  from  the  inexhaust! 
iWe  «  quivers"  of  the  U.  E.  Loyalists. 

Though  the  bulk  of  the  speculators  bought  lands  at  hap- 
hazard,  certain  parties  who  found  favour  at  the  government 
oflices  managed  to  secure  the  best  lands  which  were  for  sale 


ition  was 
re)  Loy- 
rt'ho  had 
;he  re  ve- 
nd land, 
ihe  Brit- 
3  of  the 
in  their 

I  settled 
le  large 

chiefly 
y  were, 
ids,  and 

bought 
)re,  and 
ormous 
er  acre, 

a  thing 
almost 
U.  E. 
med  to 
;o  have 
56  who 
d  com- 
prodi- 
jolony, 
chaust- 

t  hap- 
nment 
>r  sale 


TUE  LAm-JOJiJiKR.  j^ 

held :  the  absenlco  Tl,2  ?"'™^  "■<"•«  »'"'  »>■«  "'"I 

vaiue  gl™„  to  t:,/  ™\n  '  '?  '■"'"  '"^  "'"^'""'"' 
actual  settlers,  while    hev7  ,  m  ""i'^vemcnts  of  the 

cultivation  of 'th?l  ;— *  ""'«  "^  nothing  to  tho 
thus  been  retarded  and  iN  K  7  f^'"^^  "^  *^  «•'«"/  has 
the  insatiable  enpiditTof  !  Iv  '"''r*  ^""'■■'«^'  *°  ^^^'^Y 
possession  of  all'th  LaJtv  i  I'th  "  '""'^'^  "'^  ^-'"-« 
pendent  man  who  4.  edt  r  •  .°  '""""'^ '  "'"^  "^''^  '"''■^ 
was  branded  as  a  Rci^r       '""  '«'"'"^'  ^''^''  "'"'- 

Mr.  Q dealt  largely  in  these  «  TT  1?  t^-  i .  „ 

were  called,  and  so  great  was  thT     •  ^'^''^''    ''^^  '^^'/ 

lands  he  bought  at  2^  Z  "y''''  ^"  '"'^  ^^^^  '^'^ 
to  cigrantsL  Catdlt^~  ^^  tT  5/^ ^  ^^"  ^'^'''^ 
^ng  to  situation,  and  the  descrintZ  J'  u  ^  '"''"'  ^''^^^- 
I  have  stated  that  the  specu  2.      "^ ^''''^'''''  ^^  "^^^  with. 

hazard.     By  th^sI^T     T    I  ^'''''""^  ^"^^  ^^"^^  at  hap- 
■uy  rnis  1  mean  as  to  the  mnllHr  ^^  ^i,     i     ,  ^ 

colonists  aeeustomed  to  observe  th.'^  J""'^"'     ^" 

and  the  loeal  advantages  whTha'cn''"""'*'  "'  "'"°"^"'' 
a  peeuiiar  .gaoit,  in  Inehtattet'^Cornr,;"^^  "'"'™ 
old  eountrjmen,  they  are  eenerallv  „„,",?•  ""^ 

kind  of  knowledge,  whieh  is  ™ral"erbv .  T  "'  "^ 
and  experieneo  in  colonies.  ^  ^  '""8  observation 

The  knowledge  of  the  causes  which  promote  tl,»       -j 
flement  of  a  new  country  and  of  Zll-  "P"*  ^^ 

to  the  improvement  of  tl'!  ?%*"'"/'  general  whieh  lead 
be  compared  toTh!  t?*^^^'""'  '™*'*™  of  mankind,  may 
of  a  cS  and    on^st  ^^  "^ "  'anguage.    Uo  inhabita^I 

reflect  onXtTu't  of  ^   f/""'^'  ''"' ^"^ '•^  ever 

w.chwebeene:;::;e^tt;::i:sL:i2rt 


If 


* 


I 


I  .■ 


198 


iWUumm  IT  IN  THE  BUS  If. 


bringfl,!  thv  lanr-i^^  to  perfection.  Tlie  barbarian  first  feels 
m  disttdvi  ui  .^  of  a  Urnii^^  means  of  comiiiuuicating  his 
idet^  i«|d  Mith  g,  ^t  labour  and  ingenjiity  devices  tk-  means 
from  time  to  time,  toremedj  the  impci/Ki  .ns  of  his  language! 
U^  IS  compelled  to  analyze  and  study  it  in  its  first  elements, 
im  .to  augment  the  modes  of  expression  in  order  to  keep  pace' 
with  ike  increasing  number  of  his  waniti?  and  ideas. 

A  colony  y  nrs  the  same  relation  to  an  old-settled  country 
that  a  grammar  docs  to  a  language.     In  a  colony,  society  is 
seen  m  its  first  elements,  the  country  itself  is  in  its  rudest  and 
simplest  form.     The  colonist  knows  them  in  this  primitive 
state,  and  watches  their  progress  step  by  step.     In  this  man- 
ncr  he  acquires  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  philosophy  of 
improvement,  which  is  almost  unattainable  by  an  individual 
Nvho  has  lived  from  his  childhood  in  a  highly  complex  and 
artificial  state  of  society,  where  every  thing  around  him  wus 
formed  and  arranged  long  before  he  came  into  the  world  ;  ho 
sees  the  effects,  the  causes  existed  long  before  liis  time.     His 
olace  in  society—his  portion  of  the  wealth  of  the  country— 
his  prejudices-his  religion  itself,  if  he  has  any,  are  all  more 
or  less  hereditary.     He  is  in  some  measure  a  mere  machine 
or  rather  a  part  of  one.    He  is  a  creature  of  education,  rather 
than  of  original  thought. 

The  colonist  has  to  create— he  has  to  draw  on  his  own 
stock  of  ideas,  and  to  rouse  up  all  his  latent  energies  to  meet 
all  his  wants  in  his  new  position.  Thus  his  thinking  principle 
IS  strengthened,  and  he  is  more  energetic.  When  a  moderate 
share  of  eu  .cation  is  added  to  these  advantages— for  they  are 
advantages  in  one  sense— he  becomes  a  superior  being. 

I  have  indulged  in  these  reflections,  wM^i  manifest  risk  of 
being  thought  somewhat  prosy  by  my  more  lively  readers,  lu 
order  to  guard  my  countrymen,  English,  Scotch,  and  Irish 
agamst  a  kind  of  presumption  which  is  exceedingly  common' 


THE  LANDJOBBEn. 


109 


among  them  when  they  coi  -^  to  Canada-o^^  C' •  .yini?  that 
they  are  as  r.pable  of  formir^g  correct  opinions  on  lo  J  mat- 
ters  as  the  Canadians  thenKs.hes.     It  is  always  somewhat 
humbhng  to  our  self-love  to  be  compelled  to  confess  what 
may  be  considered  an  error  of  .judgment,  but  my  desire  to 
guard  future  settlers  against  similar  mistakes  overpower,  my 
reluctance  to  own  that  I  fell  into  the  common  error  of  many 
of  my  countrymen,  of  purchasing  wild  land,  on  speculation, 
with  a  very  inadequate  capital.     This  was  one  of  the  chief 
cause,  of  much  suffering,  iu  which  for  many  years  my  family 
became  involved;  but  through  which,  supported  by  trust  in 
1  rovidence  and  the  energy  of  a  devoted  partner,  I  continued 
by  her  aid  to  struggle,  until,  when  least  expected,  the  light  of 
hope  at  length  dawned  upon  us. 

In  reflecting  on  this  error-for  error  and  imprudcn,  o  it 
was,  even  thougl.  the  result  had  been  fortunate-I  have  still 
this  poor  comfort,  that  there  was  not  one  in  a  hundred  of  r^r- 
sons  similarly  situated  but  fell  into  the  same  mistake,  of 
trusting  too  much  to  present  appearances,  without  sufficient 
experience  in  the  country. 

.    I  ^^^:  ^'  ^t"^^  ""^'^^^^  «*atc^'  a^out  £300  when  I  arrived 
m  Canada.     Tliis  sum  was  really  advantageously  invested  in 
a  cleared  farm,  which  possessed  an  intrinsic  and  not  a  merely 
speculative  value.     Afterwards  a  small  legacy  of  about  £700 
fell  into  my  hands,  and  had  I  contented  myself  with  this  farm 
and  purchased  two  adjoining  cleared  farms,  containing  two 
hundred  acres  of  land  of  the  finest  quality  which  were  sold 
far  below  their  value  by  the  thriftless  owners,  I  should  have 
done  well,  or  at  all  events  have  invested  my  money  profitably. 
But  the  temptation  to  buy  wild  land  at  5..  an  acre,  whi^h 
was  expected  to  double  in  value  in  a  few  months,  with  the 
example  of  niany  instances  of  similar  speculation  proving  suc 
c<.ssful  which  came  under  my  notice,  proved  irresistible 


Si 


wwiiwruBuyfoj^  t-^, 


300 


ROUQUIXli  II  iv  THE  MViill. 


iu  1832  emigration  was  just  at  its  height,  and  a  great 
number  of  emigrants,  several  of  wliom  were  of  tlie  higher 
cto,  and  possessed  of  eonsiderabic  capital,  were  directed  to 

the  town  of  C ,  hi  the  rear  of  which  extensive  tracts  of 

knd  we,-e  oflered  to  settlers  at  the  provincial  government 
«»)es     Had  this  extensive  emigration  continued,  I  should 
have  been  enabled  to  double  my  capital,  by  sellmg  my  wild 
lands  to  settlers;  but,  unfortunately,  the  prevalence  of  cholera 
durmg  that  year,  and  other  causes,  gave  such  a  serious  checlc 
to  emigration  to  Canada  that  it  has  never  been  renewed  to  the 
same  extent  since  that  time.    Besides  the  chance  of  a  checic 
to  emigration  generally,  the  influx  of  strangers  is  often  ex- 
tremely  cipricious  h,  the  direction  it  takes,  flowing  one  year 
nito  one  particular  locality,  and  afterwards  into  another. 
Botli  these  resulte,  neither  of  which  was  foreseen  by  any  one 
urfortunately  for  me,  ensued  just  at  that  time.    It  seemed 
natural  that  emigrants  should  flow  into  a  fertile  tract  of  land 
and  emigration  was  confidently  expected  steadily  to  increase;' 
these  were  our  anticipations,  but  neither  of  them  was  realized 
W  ere_  it  suitable  to  the  character  of  these  sl<etehes.  I  would 
enter  mto  the  subject  of  emigration  and  the  progress  of  im- 

mrrTh  '"        • '''  """^"""^  *'-'"•'  "y  J"^Unt  has  been 
matured  by  experience  and  observation ;  but  such  considera- 
ions  would  be  out  of  place  in  volumes  lilce  the  present,  and  I 
shall  therefore  proceed  with  my  narrative 

I  had  obtained  my  cleared  farm  on  easy  terms,  and,  hi  so 
far  as  the  probability  of  procurmg  a  eomfortuble  subs  sLe 
was  concerned,  we  h«i  no  reason  to  complain;  but  eomte 
and  happiness  do  not  depend  entirely  on  a  sufl^eiencyo7Tl^o 
necessaries  o  life.  Some  of  our  neighbours  were  fL  from 
beuig  agreeable  to  us.  Being  fresh  from  England,  it  could 
«rdly  be  expjx.ted  that  we  could  at  once  acelmodate  our 
a.lves  to  the  obtrusive  familiarity  of  persons  who  had  no  con- 


THE  LAND-JOBBER. 


201 


ccption  of  any  dlfTercnces  in  taste  or  manners  arising  from 
education  and  habits  acquired  in  a  more  refined  state  of 
society.  I  allude  more  particularly  to  some  rude  and  demor- 
nlizcd  American  farmers  from  the  United  States,  who  lived 
111  our  immediate  neighbourhood.  Other  neighbours  from  the 
same  country  were  worthy,  industrious  people ;  but,  on  the 
whole,  the  evil  greatly  predominated  over  the  good  amongst 
them.  ° 

At  a  few  miles'  distance  from  our  fai-m,  we  had  some  in- 
telligent  English  neighbours,  of  a  higher  class;  but  they  were 
always  so  busily  occupied  with  their  farming  operations,  that 
they  had  little  leisure  or  inclination  for  that  sort  of  easy  inter 
course  to  which  we  had  been  accustomed.     If  we  called  in 
the  forenoon,  we  generally  found  our  neighbour  hard  at  work 
111  the  fields,  and  his  wife  over  head  and  ears  in  her  domestic 
occupations.     We  had  to  ring  the  bell  repeatedly  before  we 
could  gam  admittance,  to  allow  her  time  to  change  her  ordi- 
nary  dress.     Long  before  this  could  be  effected,  or  we  could 
enter  the  door,  sundry  reconnoitring  parties  of  the  children 
would  peep  at  us  round  the  corners  of  the  house,  and  then 
scamper  ofl*  to  make  their  reports. 

It  was  strange  that  sensible  people  should  not  at  once  see 
the  necessity  of  accommodating  their  habits  to  their  situation 
and  circumstances,  and  receive  their  friends  without  appear- 
mg  to  be  ashamed  of  their  employments.  This  absurdity 
however,  is  happily  confined  to  the  would-be-genteel  people  'm 
the  country,  who  visit  in  the  towns,  and  occasionally  are  am- 
bitious  enough  to  give  large  parties  to  the  aristocracy  of  the  ' 
toAvns.  The  others,  who  do  not  pretend  to  vie  with  the  towns- 
people  in  such  follies,  are  a  great  deal  more  easy  and  natural 
m  their  manners,  and  more  truly  independent  and  hospitaBle. 

Now  that    e  are  better  acquainted  with  the  country,  we 
much  prefer  the  conversation  of  fha  ;»f„ii: *  „--j  ....'__ 


9* 


s 
.  1 


<#" 


^. 


202 


HOUGHING  IT  IN  THE  Bmil. 


I 


tending  class  of  fanners,  ^vho,  though  their  education  has  been 
limited    otlen  possess  a  rich  fund  of  strong  common  sense 
and  liberahty  of  sentiment,  and  not  unfrequently  great  ob. 
servation  and  originality  of  mind.     At  the  period  I  refer  to  a 
number  of  the  American  settlers  from  the  United  States  ^.'ho 
composed  a  considerable   part  of  the  population,   regarded 
Bntish  settlers  with  an  intense  feeling  of  dislike,  and  found  a 
pleasure  m  annoying  and  insulting  them  when  any  occasion 
offered.     They  did  not  understand  us,  nor  did  we  them,  and 
they  generally  mistook  the  reserve  which  is  common  with  the 
British  towards  strangers  for  pride  .id  superciliousness. 

You  Britishers  are  too  superstitious ^^  one  of  them  told 
me  on  a  particular  occasion. 

It  was  some  time  before  I  found  out  what  he  meant  by  the 
term  superstitious^  and  that  it  was  generally  used  by  them 
tor     supercilious." 

New  settlers  of  the  lower  classes  were  then  in  the  habit  of 
imitating  their  rudeness  and  familiarity,  which  they  mistook 
for  independence.     Td  a  certain  extent,  this  feeling  still  exists 
amongst  the  working  class  from  Europe,  but  they  have  learnt 
to  keep  It  within  prudent  bounds  for  their  own  sakes ;  and  the 
higher  class  have  learnt  to  moderate  their  pretensions,  which 
wil  not  be  tolerated  here,  where  labourers  are  less  dependent 
on  them  for  employment.     The  character  of  both  classes,  in 
fact,  has  been  altered  very  much  for  the  better,  and  a  better 
and  healthier  feeling  exists  between  them-much  more  so  in- 
deed,  than  in  England.  -  ' 

m  labouring  class  come  to  this  country,  too  often,  with 
the  Idea  that  the  higher  class  are  their  tyrants  and  oppress- 
ors; and,  with  a  feeling  akin  to  revenge,  they  are  often  in- 
clnied  to  make  their  employers  m  Canada  suffer  in  their  turn. 
This  feeling  is  the  effect  of  certain  depressing  causes,  often  re- 
mote  and  beyond  the  reach  of  legislation,  but  no  less  real  on 


1 


THE  LAND-JOBBER. 


203 


that  account ;  and  just  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of  poverty 
and  servility  which  exists  among  the  labouring  class  in  the 
particular  part  of  the  United  Kingdom  from  which  they  come, 
■will  be  the  reaction  here.  When  emigrants  have  been  somJ 
years  settled  in  Canada,  they  find  out  their  particular  and  just 
position,  as  well  as  their  duties  and  interests,  and  then  they 
begin  to  feel  truly  happy. 

The  fermentation  arising  from  the  strange  mixture  of  dis- 
cordant  elements  and  feelings  gradually  subsides,  but  until 
this  takes  place,  the  state  of  society  is  any  thing  but  agreeable 
or  satisfactory. 

^  Such  was  its  state  at  C ,  in  1832  ;  and  to  us  it  was  so 

distasteful,  that  though  averse,  for  various  reasons,  to  com- 
mence a  new  settlement,  we  began  to  listen  to  the  persuasions 

of  our  friends,  who  were  settled  in  the  township  of  D 

about  forty  miles  from  C ,  and  who  were  naturally  anx' 

ious  to  induce  us  to  settle  among  them. 

Mrs.  Moodie's  brother,  S ,  had  recently  formed  a  set- 
tlement in  that  township,  and  just  before  our  arrival  in  Canada, 
had  been  joined  by  an  old  brother-officer  and  countryman  of 

mine,  Mr.  T ,  who  was  married  to  Mrs.  Moodie's  sister. 

The  latter,  who,  like  myself,  was  a  half-pay  officer,  had  pur- 

chased  a  lot  of  wild  land,  close  to  the  farm  occupied  by  S . 

Mr.  S-—  S had  emigrated  to  Canada  while  quite  a 

youth,  and  was  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  backwoods, 
and  with  the  use  of  the  felling-axe,  which  he  wielded  with  all 
the  ease  and  dexterity  of  a  native. 

I  had  already  paid  some  flying  visits  to  the  backwoods,  and 
found  the  state  of  society,  though  rude  and  rough,  more  con- 
genial to  our  European  tastes  and  habits ;  for  several  gentle- 
men of  liberal  education  were  settled  in  the  neighbourhood, 
among  whom  there  was  a  constant  interchange  of  visits  and 
good  offices.     Al!  the-,  gentlemen  had  recently  arrived  from 


\m 


204 


liOUGULNG  IT  W  THE  JiUiSlI. 


chChad  taken  n,l'  ."°:"'^^'  "^^  --^quently  very  little 
could  svmnathiVp  -on-fi,  ^      ^         "^        societ}'  of  those  who 

.o™.Lr«rL:*  rnrtrtrtts^ata""; 

each  other  in  their  farming  operatio^  ^°  '^'''' 

ers,  ho  cannot  pile  upttwr"'""?  f  *^°  "  *-«  <"•>. 
labourers  and  Lmmon  diffie^ir  ""''^'«-     ^'"™<"' 

»  campaign,  proZ:  a  f  ^af  :r  LTr""™'" '"""« 
woodsmen.    There  is  motl  ^       ,    ''"^  ^™S  *"«'l'- 

cuementorimpCi;'a":Sss%r;;^:i^-;:^:-- 

ness.     Every  tree  tha    mT^Z^^fT'  "  '^"^  '"'''"■ 

gra,fof';~hiT:::f:h"hi''  """■^ ,"';""'  -"■'^^^ 

pay  officer,  in  his  JeSneJ  0X^0^  ^l"  """■- 
tion  amounted  to  only  sixtv  J.X  ,      *  ""'  P™'' 

^^  -  as  heing  in  a  itrpZ^rrrnt^^.TaT 
clergy  reserve  of  two  hundred  acres,  in  the  re»  of  rt»    •  , 


THE  LAND-JOBBEU. 


205 


s«  rj  r  zi.r»ir ;? i-,  •* 

matters  gone  well  with  me  '"""'^""^  "^  "  f"""'/   had 

p^pe.,  .J  .a^rrtirre  t:  riaVTr 

great  deal  of  labour  or  money  nlVh?  "^^^^^J'f^  «»•  » 

which  amounted  to  about  £100  per  annum  nf  P  ^  ^  ^• 
-no,,  waa  su«leient  to  keep  u.  .^^T^t^l,^^  Z 
lor  cleannff  a  certain  pvfpnf  r^^-i     j  '  P^3'^ 

for  wh^af     t.  I  ^^^^^^'  ^^3^  *en  acres  every  year 

tious  to  have  foreseen.  ^ ™™'  "''  "»"■ 

An  intimation  from  the  War^ffice  appeared  in  aII  ti, 
newspapers,  eallmg  on  half-pay  offieers  eithtt.      ,f .   ' 
commissions  or  to  hold  them"ve!l  Tealts  ^  ■        *'" 
regiment.     This  was  a  hard  alternLrve  a™*:/;'"  ^^ 
cers  were  situated;   for  a  groat  ma^y  oHhem  ha^T'"- 

^Toil^r'T  *"  '^'"'^''  "^  '"^ant^rfla^^h 
weie  offered  them  by  government,  and  had  expended  allT 

-can.  m improving  these  grants,  which  were^™';';"  t'n 
to  them  m  remote  situations,  where  thov  w„.  ^7 

woruaess  ^  any  class  of  settierstt  fhl^  ^d^  ^. 


u 


■r 


f'. 


r  m^ 


309 


HOUOHINQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSB. 


i| 


mand  sufficient  labour  in  their  own  families  to  make  die 

necessary  clearings  and  improvements. 

Rather  than  sell  my  commission,  I  would  at  once  have 

made  up  my  mind  to  join  a  regiment  in  any  part  of  the 
world  ;  but,  when  I  came  to  think  of  the  matter,  I  recollected 
that  the  expense  of  an  outfit,  and  of  removing  my  family— 
to  say  nothing  of  sacrificing  my  property  in  the  colony- 
would  render  it  utterly  impossible  for  me  to  accept  this  un- 
pleasant  alternative,  after  being  my  o^ti  master  for  eighteen 
years,  and  after  effectually  getting  rid  of  all  the  habits  which 
render  a  military  life  attractive  to  a  young  man.     Under 
thesecir.'.rMistances,  Itoo  hastily  determined  to  sell  out  of 
the  army.     This,  of  course,  was  easily  managed.     I  expected 
to  get  about  £600  for  my  commission ;  and,  before  the  trans- 
action  was  concluded,  I  was  inquiring  anxiously  for  some 
mode   of  investing  the  proceeds,  so  as  to  yield  a  yearly 
income. 

Unfortunately,  as  it  turned  out,  I  made  a  bargain  with  Mr. 

Q for  twenty-five  shares,  of  £25  each,  in  a  fine  steamer,' 

which  had  just  been  built  at  C ,  and  which  was  expected 

to  pay  at  least  twenty-five  per  cent,  to  the  shareholders. 

Tliis  amount  of  stock  Q offered  me  for  the  proceeds  of 

my  commission,  whatever  amount  it  might  be  sold  for;  oflfer- 
ing  at  the  same  time  to  return  all  he  should  receive 'above 
£600  sterling.  As  I  had  nothing  but  his  word  for  this  part 
of  the  agreement,  he  did  not  recollect  it  when  he  obtained 
£700,  which  was  £100  more  than  I  expected.  Some  boats 
on  Lake  Ontario,  while  the  great  emigration  lasted,  and  there 
was  less  competition,  yielded  more  than  thirty  per  cent. ;  and 
there  seemed  then  no  reason  to  doubt  that  the  new'  boat 
would  be  equally  profitable. 

It  is  possible  that  Q foresaw  what  actually  happened ; 

or,  more  probably,  he  thought  he  could  employ  his  money 


THE  LANL-JOBBSn.  ^^^ 

at  ]ast  she  came  under  tho  ^^,.  '"'^'''^^  ^^^^  »  ^ong  time,  and 

their  own  interesf c,      A  ^^         j      ,         ^        "'  ^"^  *o  suit 
to  be  pro  Wetp^etsirLtroe::  ^  '"""•™^^ 

only  invested  ^  LneyTI  IT  '°  '""'  "''"  '  "-"^  ''»' 

f~mthep.„«.o^fr:L;i^:;xrc/ ^ 

the  proceeds  of  my  commiWon  .„^  v      .   i    "'"^I>-«'=«>ved 

«erling,  equal  to  £840  eurrenc;  touM   ^     "="'-"^^^«0 
per  annum,  which  with  ™^  „      >T         ™  S>ven  me  £60 

family  .ole;ab,;tcrL"\re  tl""''  ""^  '^'"  "^ 
-vea  us  ai,  much  pr/vation  aXrlS^  ~-  ^^  "- 

The  government  did  not  carrv  o„f  v     •  .      . 
respect  to  half.pay  officers  in  tl,rr7  °      f  ""*""™  *'* 
Hke  myself,  ha^alrradT  ^if  th"  ^II,'"'  "™^  <"«"-• 
appr-ension  of  being  compel!  dToIZHrrd",**' 
native.      I  was  suddenly  thrown  Z  t!  ^  "^  *'"=■■- 

fupport  a  helpless  and  iirea^rC^y  '^rutT"^^'° 
-come.    I  had  this  consolation^ow'vL   !!"!  !"^  "?".'"' 

...  „i.;^cx  uij  nusior- 


208 


BOUGHlNd  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


tunc,  that  I  had  acted  from  the  best  motives,  and  without  the 
most  remote  idea  that  I  was  risking  the  comfort  and  happiness 
of  those  depending  upon  me.  I  found  very  soon,  that  I  had 
been  too  precipitate,  as  people  often  are  in  extraordinary  po- 
sitions; though,  had  the  result  been  more  fortunate,  most 
people  would  have  commended  my  prudence  and  foresight. 
Wo  determined,  however,  to  bear  up  manfully  against  our 
Ill-fortune,  and  trust  to  that  Pl-ovidence  which  never  deserts 
those  who  do  not  forget  their  own  duties  in  trying  circum, 
stances. 

It  is  curious  how,  on  such  occasions,  some  stray  stanz.-i, 
which  hang  about  the  outskirts  of  the  memory,  will  suddenly 
come  to  your  aid.  Thus,  I  often  caught  myself  humming 
over  some  of  the  verses  of  that  excellent  moral  song,  «  The 
Pilot,"  and  repeating,  with  a  peculiar  emphasis,  the  conclu. 
ding  lines  of  each  stanza, 

"  Fear  not !  but  trust  in  Providence, 
Wherever  thou  may'st  be." 

Such  songs  do  good ;  and  a  peculiar  blessing  seems  to  attend 
every  composition,  in  prose  or  verse,  which  inculcates  good 
moral  sentiments,  or  ten^  to  strengthen  our  virtuous  resolu- 
tions.     This  fine  song,  F  feel  assured,  wOl  live  embalmed  in 
the  memory  of  mankind  long  after  the  sickly,  affected,  and 
unnatural  ditties  of  its  author  have  gone  to  their  merited  ob- 
hvion.    Sometimes,  however,  in  spite  of  my  good  resolutions 
when  left  alone,  the  dark  clouds  of  despondency  would  close 
around  me,  and  I  could  not  help  contrasting  the  happy  past 
m  our  life  with  my  gloomy  anticipations  of  the  future.    Sleep 
which  should  bring  comfort  and  refreshment,  often  only  aggra-' 
vated  my  painful  regrete,  by  recalling  scenes  which  had  nearly 
escaped  my  waking  memory,    k  such  a  mood  the  foUowing 
verses  w-ere  written : 


OU,  LET  ME  tSLMEl'! 


OH,  LET  ME  SLEEP! 

Oh,  let  me  sleep  I  nor  wake  to  sadness 
Tlte  heart  that,  sleeping,  dreams  of  gladness; 
For  sleep  is  death,  without  the  paiul 
Then  wake  me  not  to  life  again. 
Oh,  let  me  sleep  I  nor  break  the  spell 
li'at  soothes  the  captive  in  his  cell  • 
That  bursts  his  ehains,  and  sots  hii^  fr^e, 
To  revel  in  his  liberty.  ' 

Loved  scenes,  array'd  in  tenderest  hue, 
iS  ow  nso  in  beauty  to  my  view  • 
And  long-lost  friends  around  mo  stand 
7'  80"l"ig,  grasp  my  willing  hand 
Agam  I  sock  my  island  homo; 
Along  the  silent  bays  I  roam, 
Or,  seated  on  the  rocky  shore, 
I  hear  the  angry  surges  roar.  ' 

And  oh,  how  sweet  the  music  seems 
I  ve  heard  amid  my  blissful  dreams ' 
But  of  the  sadly  picking  strains. 
Naught  save  the  thrilling  sense  remahm. 
Those  sounds  so  loved  in  scenes  so  dear, 
btill-still  they  murmur  in  my  ear  • 
But  sleep  alone  can  bless  the  sight 
With  forms  that  iudo  with  morning's  light 


200 


'•  W.  D.  K. 


it  ^r.  "^  ^"^  ^^^^  °f  «>e  following  ,oa«  »d 

.t  has  been  set  to  music  in  the  States.    I  her!  Z' ^ 
ongmal  copy,  written  whilst  leaning  on  tl,!  nnl  ?,       \ 
-.  ahanty,  and  watchi.^  for  the  re*::^  Z'^;^^^  " 


i'l^^V  i?WK^ 

.-^ 

'•'Hiw'iiifiiiriinfiii 


210 


RomniNQ  IT  m  the  buss. 


THE   SLEIGH-BELLS. 

'Tis  merry  to  hear,  at  evening  time, 

By  the  blazing  hearth  the  sleigh-bollB  chime : 

lo  know  the  bounding  steeds  bring  near 

Ihe  loved  one  to  our  bosoms  dear. 

Ah,  lightly  we  spring  the  Are  to  rliso, 

liU  the  rafters  glow  with  the  ruddy  blaze  • 

Those  merry  sleigh-bells,  our  hearts  keep'time 

Kesponsive  to  their  fairy  chime. 

Ding-dong,  ding-dong,  o'er  valley  and  hill, 

ineir  welcome  notes  are  trembling  still. 

'Tis  he  and  blithely  the  gay  bells  sound, 
As  ghdos  h:8  sleigh  o'er  the  frozen  ground : 

Hark!  he  has  pass'd  the  dark  pine  wood, 
He  crosses  now  the  ice-bound  flood 
And  hails  the  hght  at  the  open  door' 
That  tells  his  toilsome  journey  's  o'er 

And  throbs  to  hear  the  welcome  bells : 
Ding-dong,  ding-dong,  o'er  ice  and  snow. 
A  voice  of  gladness,  on  they  go. 

Our  hut  is  smaU,  and  rude  our  cheer, 
But  love  has  spread  the  banquet  here : 
And  childhood  springs  to  be  caress'd 
By  our  beloved  and  welcome  guest. 
With  a  smUing  brow,  his  tale  he  tells, 
The  urchins  ring  the  merry  sleigh-bells : 
The  merry  sleigh-bells,  with  shout  and  song 
They  drag  the  noisy  string  along  •  ^ 

Ding-dong  ding-dong,  the  father 's  come. 
The  gay  bells  ring  his  welcome  home. 

I'rl  .*h'  ""vT  T^P  *^'  ^"""^  ^«J^««  howl, 
From  the  oak  loud  whoops  the  felon  owl ; 


TUE  ^LRIQH-BICLLS. 

The  B„ow-8torm  sweep,  i„  thunder  post, 
The  forest  croaks  beneath  the  blast: 
The  more  I  list,  with  boding  fear, 
The  flicgh-bclls'  distant  chime  to  hear. 

The  merry  slcigh-belln,  with  soothing  power 

Shed  gladness  on  the  evening  hour. 

»'ng-dong,  ding-dong,  what  rapture  .wells 

Ihe  muaio  of  those  joyous  belis  I 


.A  «,-. 


■ND    OF   VOL.   I. 


»£Sf  r-  ^'  .  ty  »«»»*»W«i™iB««*i«S^K 


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] 

i.: 

ROUGHING  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


■^♦»- 


CHAPTER    I. 


A    JOURNEY    TO    THK    WOODS. 

Tia  well  for  ua  poor  denizens  of  earth 
That  God  conceals  the  future  from  our  gaze  ; 
Or  Hope,  the  blessed  watcher  on  Life's  tower, 
Would  fold  her  wings,  and  on  the  dreary  wiiste 
Close  the  bright  eye  that  through  the  murky  cloudi 
Of  blank  Despair  still  sees  the  glorious  sun. 

TT  was  a  bright,  frosty  morning  when  I  bade  adieu  to  the 
J-  form,  the  birthplace  of  my  little  Agnes,  who,  nestled 
beneath  my  cloak,  was  sweetly  sleeping  on  my  knee, 
unconscious  of  the  long  journey  before  us  into  the  wilderness! 
The  sun  had  not  as  yet  risen.  Anxious  to  get  to  our  place 
of  destination  before  dark,  we  s'arted  as  early  as  we  could. 
Our  own  fine  team  had  been  sold  the  day  before  for  forty 

pounds ;  and  one  of  our  neighbours,  a  Mr.  D ,  was  to 

convey  us  and  our  household  goods  to  Douro  for  the  sum  of 
twenty  dollars.     During  the  week  he  had  made  several  jour, 
neys,  with  furniture  and  stores ;  and  all  that  now  remained 
was  to  be  conveyed  to  the  woods  in  two  large  lumber-sleighs 
—.^  -liXTvxi  tjj  jiiiiiscii,  tile  uuiur  oy  a  younger  Druther. 


WW' 


ll 


ix  yi; 


6 


ROUQHINQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


WW.  - 


\i     r 


':'    i 


»S 


!■  i 


^i 


It  was  not  without  regret  that  I  left  Melsetter,  for  so  my 
husband  had  called  the  place,  after  his  father's  estate  in  Ork- 
ney. It  was  a  beautiful,  picturesque  spot ;  and,  in  spite  of  the 
evil  neighbourhood,  I  had  learned  to  love  it ;  indeed,  it  was 
much  against  my  wish  that  it  was  sold.  I  had  a  great  dislike 
to  removing,  which  involves  a  necessary  loss,  and  is  apt  to 
give  to  the  emigrant  roving  and  unsettled  habits.  But  all 
regrets  were  now  useless ;  and  happily  unconscious  of  the  life 
of  toil  and  anxiety  that  awaited  us  in  those  dreadful  woods,  I 
tried  my  best  to  be  cheerful,  and  to  regard  the  future  with  a 
hopeful  eye. 

Our  driver  was  a  shrewd,  clever  man,  for  his  opportunities. 
He  took  charge  of  the  living  cargo,  which  consisted  of  my  hus- 
band, our  maid-servant,  the  two  little  children,  and  myself — 
besides  a  large  hamper,  full  of  poultry — a  dog,  and  a  cat. 
The  lordly  sultan  of  the  imprisoned  ser  'lio  thought  fit  to 
conduct  himself  in  a  very  eccentric  mann*. . ,  for  at  every  barn- 
yard we  happened  to  pass,  he  clapped  his  wings,  and  crowed 
so  long  and  loud  that  it  afforded  great  amusement  to  the 
whole  party,  and  doubtless  was  very  edifying  to  the  poor 
hens,  who  lay  huddled  together  as  mute  as  mice. 

"  That  'ere  rooster  thinks  he's  on  the  top  of  the  heap,"  said 
our  driver,  laughing.  "  I  guess  he's  not  used  to  travelling  in 
a  close  conveyance.  Listen!  How  all  the  crowers  in  the 
neighbourhood  give  him  back  a  note  of  defiance!  But  he 
knows  that  he's  safe  enough  at  the  bottom  of  the  basket." 

The  day  was  so  bright  for  the  time  of  year  (the  first  week 
in  February),  that  we  suffered  no  inconvenience  from  the  cold. 
Little  Katie  was  enchanted  with  the  jingling  of  the  sleigh-bells, 
and,  nestled  among  the  packages,  kept  singing  or  talking  to 
the  horses  in  her  baby  lingo.  Trifling  as  these  little  inci- 
dents were,  before  we  had  proceeded  ten  miles  on  our  long 

imirn«i7   f.ViAv  ravJvAfl  mv  drnnrting  HniritR.  and   I    hecran   to 
j—^'—ji  "-i-j    --'-' —  — J g — o    -t J --a —    '^ 


A  JOURNEY  TO  THE  WOODS.  7 

pi-:;"'"  interest  i„  the  scenes  through  which  we  were 

in  the  world  \Z^  ,h '.,      ^      u      '"  *'"  ''"'*  "^S^^y^ 

woods  arose  ^^2^l!:7tX't^T^  """  "" 
and  the  deep  silence  that  hmoT/  *«"•  solemn  aspect, 
inspiring  the  mind  with      ,  "ver  their  vast  solitudes, 

stirred  fhol  fl      T        ""''"'2''  "'■"•    Not  a  breath  of  wind 

still,  that  it  seemed  as  if  nT^  f /"""''  '*^  '°  ^'^'"'^y 

tions,  that  life  anTl;  o^ «"' »^^^^^^^^^      '''  T^ 

»g_in  her  winding-sheet,  upon  the  Wer  of  death       ™'  ^'"^ 

I  guess  you  will  find  the  woods  pretty  lonesome  "  s»!d 

.tdlf;redThS;rthf  "™^  -■^"°™^ ""'  ^  ^'^ 

believed  tL  ^frtht^fr  3  ""'  ^^^^  "^  "^^ 
"What  swamp  is  that?"  asked  I. 

"Oh,  the  great  Cavan  swamp.     We  are  in,f  t^^      •, 
from  it  •  nni-1  I  f«ii  ^1     ,        t"      "f^  ^  are  just  two  miles 

nom  .t,  and  I  tell  you  the  horses  will  need  a  good  rest  and 

Ms  Mo„d,c,  if  ever  you  travel  that  way  in  summer  vou 
wdl  know  something  about  corduroy  roads  TTs  w  ! 
JO  ted  to  death  last  f;.ll;  I  thought  ft  wotd  h  ve  beer„o 
bad  not,on  to  have  insured  my  teeth  before  I  left  " 
.x«,y  expected    that  they  would  have   been    shook  out 


f  ; 


1^- 


1 

TTF; 

f 

I  f  i 


8 


BOUOHING  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


'W 


m\} 


\:\ 


of  my  head  before  we  had  done  manoeuvring  over  the  big 
logs." 

"  How  will  my  crockery  stand  it  in  the  next  sleigh  ?" 
quoth  I.  "  If  the  road  is  such  as  you  describe,  I  am  afraid 
that  I  shall  not  bring  a  whole  plate  to  Douro." 

"  Oh !  the  snow  is  a  great  leveller — it  makes  all  rough 
places  smooth.  But  with  regard  to  this  swamp,  I  have  some- 
thing to  tell  you.  About  ten  years  ago,  no  one  had  ever  seen 
the  other  side  of  it ;  and  if  pigs  or  cattle  strayed  away  into 
it,  they  fell  a  prey  to  the  wolves  and  bears,  and  were  seldom 
recovered. 

"  An  old  Scotch  emigi'ant,  who  had  located  himself  on  this 
side  of  it,  so  often  lost  bis  beasts  that  he  determined  durmg 
the  summer  season  to  try  and  explore  the  place,  and  see  if 
there  were  any  end  to  it.  So  ho  takes  an  axe  on  his  shoul- 
der, and  a  bag  of  provisions  for  the  week,  not  forgetting  a 
flask  of  whiskey,  and  off  he  starts  all  alone,  and  tells  his  wife 
that  if  he  never  returned,  she  and  little  Jock  must  try  and 
carry  on  the  farm  without  him ;  but  he  was  determined  to 
see  the  end  of  the  swamp,  even  if  it  led  to  the  other  world. 
He  fell  upon  a  fresh  cattle-track,  which  he  followed  all  that 
day ;  and  towards  night  he  found  himself  in  the  heart  of  a 
tangled  wilderness  of  bushes,  and  himself  half  eaten  up  with 
mosquitoes  and  black-flies.  He  was  more  than  tempted  to 
give  in,  and  return  home  by  the  first  glimpse  of  light. 

"The  Scotch  are  a  tough  people ;  they  are  not  easily  daunted 
— a  few  difficulties  only  seem  to  make  them  more  eager  to 
get  on;  and  he  felt  ashamed  the  next  moment,  as  he  told  me, 
of  giving  up.  So  he  finds  out  a  large,  thick  cedar-tree  for  his 
bed,  climbs  up,  and  coiling  himself  among  the  branches  like  a 
bear,  he  was  soon  fast  asleep. 

"  The  next  morning,  by  daylight,  he  continued  his  journey, 
not  forgetting  to  blaze  with  his  axe  the  trees  to  the  right  and 


n 


A  JOURNEY  TO     IIB  WOODS.  g 

left  as  he  went  along.    The  ground  was  so  spongy  and  wet 
that  at  every  step  he  plunged  up  to  his  knees  in  wa^.  but  he 

day  before.     He  saw  several  doer,  a  raceoon,  and  a  ground- 
hog,  dunng  h,s  wall<,  but  was  unmolested  by  Laa-s  orlolves 

snakes,  he  felt  so  weary  towards  the  second  day  that  he  de^ 
termmed  to  go  home  the  nen  moving.  But  jus't  as  ho  begt 
t.  thnk  h,s  seareh  was  fruitless,  he  observed  that  the  cedars 
and  tam.aracks  which  had  obstmcted  his  path  became  les! 
numerous  and  were  succeeded  by  bass  and'oft  ml     Z 

Slot'e^'T  ' -t  """'''  '""  ""  -^  --  ---^"^ 
of  the  r         r*  ""'^  "'"'  ^'''^'  -Wch  shaded  land 

of  the  very  best  quality.     The  old  m.™  was  now  fully  con 

of  leadmg  to  the  other  world,   it  had  conducted  him  to 

tion.     H.S  favourable  report  led  to  the  foi-mation  of  the  road 
U«.t  we  are  about  to  cross,  and  to  the  settlement  of  pJr 

m  tins  district,  and  is  surrounded  by  a  splendid  back  country  " 

ox  sW^''^  r™"''"^  "  ™''  ''"^^P  '^"'  ""<>  ^"countered  an 

tion    twe      T  ™"''"^  ^'""'^  "P  •'  '"  "  -°'™^y  dire  " 
tion.     Three  people  were  seated  at  the  bottom  of  the  vehicle 

upon  straw,  which  made  a  cheap  substitute  for  buffalo  robel 
Perched,  as  we  were,  upon  the   crown  of  the  height   we 

::':«  oT:  It  V"™ '""  *^ ''-''''  ^-^  '---^ " 

i-nto  such  ^  "'™''  '""  *'"■'=''  '«''^^  ■"o^'^l^  oo'lected 

into    uch  a  narrow  space.     The  man  was  blear-eyed,  with  a 

hare.  ,p,  through  which  protruded  two  dreadful  /ellJw  tleth 
Id  rr."1  ""^  '"'^  "'  "  '""''■    The  woma'  wal  I  ' 
a  toad.    The  boy  resembled  his  hideous  ino(h.r  h,„  .„:.i.  .u , 

V0I,.I1  1*  ,■■•».  n.u.  u.;; 


I  •' ,  I ! 


[•I 


i 

*- 

1 

m 

10 


UOUGHINQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


H 


m 


iiiliiiMi  1 

#■■ 

immB^Mti 

M 

addition  of  a  villainous  obliquity  of  vision  which  rendered  him 
the  most  disgusting  object  in  this  singular  trio. 

As  we  passed  them,  our  driver  gave  a  knowing  nod  to 
my  husband,  directing,  at  the  same  time,  the  most  quizzical 
glance  towards  the  strangers,  as  he  exclaimed,  "  We  arc  iu 
luck,  sir !  I  think  that  'ere  sleigh  may  be  called  Beauty's  egg- 
basket  !" 

We  made  ourselves  very  merry  at  the  poor  people's  ex- 
pense, and  Mr.  D ,  with  his  odd  stories  and  Yankeefied 

expressions,  amused  the  tedium  of  our  progress  through  the 
great  swamp,  which  in  summer  presents  for  several  miles  one 
uniform  bridge  of  rough  and  unequal  logs,  all  laid  loosely 
across  huge  sleepers,  so  that  they  jumped  up  and  do^vn,  when 
pressed  by  the  wheels,  like  the  keys  of  a  piano.  The  rough 
motion  and  jolting  occasioned  by  this  collision  is  so  distress- 
ing that  it  never  fails  to  entail  upon  the  traveller  sore  bones 
and  an  aching  head  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  The  path  is  so 
narrow  o';er  these  logs  that  two  wagons  cannot  pass  without 
great  difficulty,  which  is  rendered  more  dangerous  by  the  deep 
natural  ditches  on  either  side  of  the  bridge,  formed  by  broad 
creeks  that  flow  out  of  the  swamp,  and  often  terminate  in 
mud-holes  of  very  ominous  dimensions.     The  snow,  however, 

hid  from  us  all  the  ugly  features  of  the  road,  and  Mr.  D 

steered  us  through  it  in  perfect  safety,  and  landed  us  at  the 
door  of  a  little  log  house  which  crowned  the  steep  hill  on  the 
other  side  of  the  swamp,  and  which  he  dignified  with  the  name 
of  a  tavern. 

It  was  now  two  o'clock.     We  had  been  on  the  road  since 
seven ;  and  men,  women,  and  children  were  all  ready  for  the 

good  dinner  that  Mr.  D had  promised  us  at  this  splendid 

house  of  entertainment,  where  we  were  destined  to  stay  for 
two  hours,  to  refresh  ourselves  and  rest  the  horses. 

"  Well,  Mrs.  J ,  what  have  you  got  for  our  dinner  ?" 


?" 


A  JOURNEY  TO   THE  WOODS.  \\ 

said  the  driver,  after  he  had  seen  to  the  accommodation  of  his 
teams. 

"Fritters  and  pork,  sir.  Nothing  else  to  be  had  in  the 
woods.     Thank  God,  we  have  enough  of  that !" 

^^x ^^''"^^ed  up  liis  shoulders,  and  looked  at  us. 

"  We've  plenty  of  that  same  at  home.  But  hunger's  good 
sauce.  Come,  be  spry,  widow,  and  see  about  it,  for  I  am  ve  ir 
hungry."  •  ^ 

I  inquired  for  a  private  room  for  myself  and  the  children, 
but  there  were  no  private  rooms  in  the  house.     The  apart- 
ment  we  occupied  was  like  the  cobbler's  stall  in  the  old  song 
and  I  was  obliged  to  attend  upon  them  in  public 

"You  have  much  to  learn,  ma'am,  if  you  are  going  to  the 
woods,"  said  Mrs.  J . 

"  To  unlearn,  you  mean,"  said  Mr.  D .     «  To  tell  you 

the  truth,  Mrs.  Moodie,  ladies  and  gentlemen  have  no  business 
m  the  woods.  Eddication  spoils  man  or  woman  for  that  loca. 
tion.  ^  So,  widow  (turning  to  our  hostess),  you  are  not  tired 
ot  living  alone  yet  ?" 

"  No,  sir ;  I  have  no  wish  for  a  second  husband.  I  had 
enough  of  the  first.  I  like  to  have  my  own  way-to  lie  down 
mistress,  and  get  up  master." 

«  You  don't  like  to  be  put  out  of  your  oU  way,"  returned 
he,  with  a  mischievous  glance. 

She  coloured  very  red;  but  it  might  be  the  heat  of  the 
fire  over  which  she  was  frying  the  pork  for  our  dinner 

I  was  very  hungry,  but  I  felt  no  appetite  for  the  dish 
she  was  preparing  for  us.  It  proved  salt,  hard,  and  unsa. 
voury. 

D pronounced  it  very  bad,  and  the  whiskey  still 

worse,  with  which  he  washed  it  down. 

I  asked  for  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  slice  of  bread.     But  they 

were  out  of  tea.  and  the  hon-rishiff  Jio/i  fv,n«^  «^j  *u.^^ 

--^.  _j  ...litju,  rtUu  Lucre  was 


1^ 


0 


■  \ 

1 

i 

n 


ROUGHING  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


;i 


no  bread  in  the  house.  For  this  disgusting  meal  we  paid  at 
the  rate  of  a  quarter  of  a  dollar  a-head. 

I  was  glad  when,  the  horses  being  again  put  to,  we  escaped 
from  the  rank  odour  of  the  fried  pork,  and  were  once  more  in 
the  fresh  air. 

"  Well,  mister ;  did  not  you  grudge  your  money  for  that 

bad  meat  V  said  D ,  when  we  were  once  more  seated  in 

the  sleigh.  "  But  in  these  parts,  the  worse  the  fare  the  higher 
the  charge." 

"  I  would  not  liave  cared,"  said  I,  "  if  I  could  have  got  a 
cup  of  tea." 

"  Tea  !  it's  poor  trash.  I  never  could  drink  tea  in  my  life. 
But  I  like  cofi  when  'tis  boiled  till  it's  quite  black.  But 
coffee  is  not  good  without  plenty  of  trimmings." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  trimmings  ?" 

He  laughed.  "  Good  sugar,  and  sweet  cream.  Coffee  ia 
not  worth  drinking  without  trimmings." 

Often  in  after  years  have  I  recalled  the  coffee  trimmings, 
when  endeavouring  to  drink  the  vile  stuff  which  goes  by  the 
name  of  coffee  in  the  houses  of  entertainment  in  the  country. 

We  had  now  passed  through  the  narrow  strip  of  clearing 
which  surrounded  the  tavern,  and  again  entered  upon  the 
woods.  It  was  near  sunset,  and  we  were  rapidly  descending 
a  steep  hill,  when  one  of  the  traces  that  held  our  sleigh  sud- 
denly broke.     D pulled  up  in  order  to  repair  the  damage. 

His  brother's  team  was  close  behind,  and  our  unexpected 

stand-still  brought  the  horses  upon  us  before  J.  D could 

stop  them.  I  received  so  violent  a  blow  from  the  head  of 
one  of  them,  just  in  the  back  of  the  neck,  that  for  a  few 
minutes  I  was  stunned  and  insensible.  When  I  recovered,  I 
was  supported  in  the  arms  cf  my  husband,  over  whose  knees 

I  was  leaning,  and  D was  rubbing  my  hands  and  temples 

with  snow. 


ill 


A  JOVRXEY  TO  THE   WOODS. 


13 


"  There,  Mr.  Moodie,  she's  coming  to.  I  thought  she  was 
killed.  I  have  s«m  a  man  before  now  killed  by  a  blow  from 
a  horse's  head  in  the  like  manner."  As  soon  as  we  could,  we 
resumed  our  places  in  the  sleigh ;  but  all  enjoyment  of  our 
journey,  had  it  been  otherwise  possible,  was  gone. 

When  M'c  reached  Peterborough,  M.^die  wished  us  to 
remam  at  the  inn  all  night,  as  we  had  still  eleven  miles  of  o,,,. 
journey  to  perform,  and  that  through  a  blazed  forest-road 
little  travelled,  and  very  m-ch  iinpeded  by  fallen  trees  and 

other  obstacles  ;  but  D was  ,mxiou,s  to  got  back  as  soon 

as  possible  to  his  own  home,  and  ho  urged  us  verv  pafhoticallv 
to  proceed.  '  ^ 

The  moon  arose  during  our  stay  at  fhe  inn,  and  gleamed 
upon  the  straggling  frame  houses  which  then  formed  the  now 
populous  and  tlwiving  town  of  Peterl^orough.     We  crossed 
the  wild,  rushing,  '  eautiful  Otonabee  river  by  a  rude  bridge 
and  soon  found  ourselves  journeying  over  the  plains  or  level 
Jieights  beyond  the  vilkge,  which  were  thinly  wooded  with 
picturesque  groups  of  oak  and  pine,  and  very  much  resembled 
a  gentleman's  park  at  home.   Far  below,  to  our  ri^ht  (for  we 
were  upon  the  Smith-town  side)  we  heard  the  rushing  of  the 
nver,  whose  rapid  waters  never  receive  curb  from  the  iron 
Cham  of  winter.    Even  while  the  rockj.  banks  are  coated  with 
ice,  and  the  frost-king  suspends  from  every  twig  and  branch 
the  most  beautiful  and  fimtastic  crystals,  the  black  waters 
rush  foaming  along,  a  thick  steam  rising  constantly  above  the 
rapids,  as  from  a  boiling  pot.   The  shores  vibrate  and  tremblo 
beneath  the  force  of  the  impetuous  flood,  as  it  whirls  round 
cedar-crowned  islands  and  opposing  rocks,  and  hurries  on  to 
pour  Its  tribute  into  the  Rice  Lake,  to  swell  the  calm,  majestic 
grandeur  of  the  Trent,  till  its  waters  are  lost  in  the  beautiful 
bay  of  Quinte,  and   finally  merged  hi  the  blue  ocean  of 
Ontario, 


f^ 


i 


■1     :   [■'  •■ 

I       : 


w< 


r 


H 


ROUQEINQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


\     I 


M 


The  most  renowned  of  our  English  i-lvers  dwindle  into  lit- 
tle muddy  rills  when  compared  with  the  sublimity  of  tho 
Canadian  waters.  No  language  can  adequately  express  tho 
solemn  grandeur  of  her  luiic  and  river  scenery  ;  the  glorious 
islands  that  float,  like  visions  from  fairy  land,  upon  the  bosom 
of  these  azure  mirrors  of  her  cloudless  skies.  No  dreary 
breadth  of  marshes,  covered  with  flags,  hide  from  our  gaze 
the  expanse  of  heaven-tinted  waters  j  no  foul  mud-banka 
spread  their  unwholesome  exhalations  around.  Tlie  rocky 
shores  are  crowned  with  the  cedar,  the  birch,  the  alder,  and 
soft  maple,  that  dip  their  long  tresses  in  the  pure  stream ; 
from  every  crevice  in  the  limestone  the  harebell  and  Canadian 
rose  wave  their  graceful  blossoms. 

Tlie  fiercest  droughts  of  summer  may  diminish  the  volume 
and  power  of  these  romantic  streams,  but  it  never  leaves  their 
rocky  channels  bare,  nor  checks  the  mournful  music  of  their 
dancing  waves.  Through  the  openings  in  th<j  forest  we  now 
and  then  caught  the  silver  gleam  of  the  river  tumbling  on  in 
moonlight  splendour,  while  the  hoarse  chiding  of  the  wind  in 
,  the  lofty  pines  above  us  gave  a  fitting  response  to  the  melan- 
'chol}'  cadence  of  the  waters. 

The  children  had  fallen  asleep.  A  deep  silence  pervaded 
the  party.  Night  was  above  us  with  her  mysterious  stars. 
Tlie  ancient  forest  stretched  around  us  on  every  side,  and  a 
foreboding  sadness  sunk  upon  my  heart.  Memory  was  busy 
with  the  events  of  many  years.  I  retraced  step  by  step  the 
pilgrimage  of  my  past  life,  until  arrivmg  at  that  passage  in 
^t?  sombre  history,  I  gazed  through  tears  upon  the  singularly 
savage  sppne-  around  me,  and  secretly  marvelled,  "What 
brought  me  hez-e  ?' 

"  Providence,"  was  the  answer  which  the  soul  gave.  "  Not 
for  your  owti  welfare,  perhaps,  but  for  the  welfare  of  your 
children,  the  unerring  hand  of  the  grefit  Father  has  led  you 


A  JOVRKET  TO  TBE  WOODS.  15 

here.  _  You  form  «  connecting  link  in  the  destinies  of  many 

benefit  fl";;„';ii::"  "ri  ^•■■«-.  ""'  »'"-  -"  -P  a 
and  the  sun  o'f  ho  '  vl'll  JTi'T  ^'  ''l  ™".«^<'»-  '°  "-ven, 
-..iddendepSrsT^thCS;,:^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

llie  road  became  so  bad  that  Mr.  D was  obliged  t„ 

net  and  I  .    'hemselves,  weary  with  their  Jong  jour, 

ney  and  heavy  load,  proceeded  at  foot  All     Ti 
ad  deserted  n,  and  tl  oniy  iig^'Jltd  t  gn^d    ':ZZl 
the  dim  arches  of  the  foro^f  xt-oo  ^p        .,         ^  "irough 

J) „  -p,  I  "'.'  "o  Shosts  m  Canada !"  said  Mr. 

is  afcard  of  ^hos.      7^:  Z:'^^'  'Z  «'"'^-      '"'  ^^•"'^- 
ti,.f        <■   ,  ^  ^  "  "'"J  eountries,  like  vour'n 

that  are  full  of  sin  „      wickedness,  that  people  bdieve  fn  Ih 
nonsense.     No  human  habitation  has  eve'r  b!en  erirdTn  tWs 
wood  through  which  yo,.  are  passing.     Until  a  very  few  ye^ 
ago  few  white  persons  had  ever  passed  through  if  and T 
Ked  Man  would  not  pitch  his  tent  in  such  a'pl<^   a    th' 


!■ 


I 


I     WMI 


16 


KOUGWNO  IT  IN  TIIK  DUtilL 


\\' 


Now,  ghosts,  as  I  understand  the  word,  are  the  spirits  of  bud 
men,  tiiat  aro  not  allowed  by  Providence  to  rest  in  their 
graves,  but,  for  a  punishment,  are  made  to  haunt  the  spots 
where  their  worst  deeds  were  committed.  I  don't  believe  iu 
all  this ;  but,  supposing  it  to  bo  true,  bad  men  must  have 
died  here  before  their  spirits  could  haunt  the  place.  Now,  it 
is  more  than  probable  that  no  person  ever  ended  his  days' in 
this  forest,  so  that  it  would  be  folly  to  tWnk  of  seein^  his 
ghost." 

This  theory  of  Mr.  D 's  had  the  merit  of  originality, 

and  it  is  not  improbable  that  the  utter  disbelief  in  supernatu- 
ral appearances,  which  is  common  to  most  native-bom  Cana- 
dians,  is  the  result  of  the  same  very  reasonable  mode  of 
arguing.  The  unpeopled  w-astes  of  Canada  must  present  the 
same  aspect  to  the  new  settler  that  the  world  did  to  our  first 
parents  after  their  expulsion  from  the  garden  of  Eden  ;  all  the 
sin  which  could  defile  the  spot,  or  haunt  it  with  the  association 
of  departed  evil,  is  concentrated  in  their  own  persons.  Bad 
spirits  cannot  be  supposed  to  linger  near  a  place  where  crime 
has  never  been  committed.  The  belief  in  ghosts,  so  prevalent 
in  old  countries,  must  first  have  had  its  foundation  in  the  con- 
sciousness  of  guilt. 

After  clearing  this  low,  swampy  portion  of  the  wood,  with 
much  difficulty,  and  the  frequent  application  of  the  axe,  to  cut 
away  the  fallen  timber  that  impeded  our  progress,  our  ears 
were  assailed  by  a  low,  roaring,  rushing  sound,  as  of  the 
falling  of  waters. 

^  "  That  is  Herriot's  Falls,"  said  our  guide.      «  We  are 
within  two  miles  of  our  destmation." 

Oh,  welcome  sound !  But  those  two  miles  appeared  more 
lengthy  than  the  whole  journey.  Thick  clouds,  that  threatened 
a  snow-storm,  had  blotted  out  the  stars,  and  we  continued  to 
grope  our  way  through  a  narrow,  rocky  path,  upon  the  edge 


A  JOURNEY  TO  THE  WOODS.  yf 

of  the  river,  in  almost  total  darkness.     I  now  felt  f  h«  .k;i  i 
o  .ho  .Mnight  hour,  .„d  ,he  fatigue  of  theToI;'        „t  tl^ 
double  force,  and  envied  the  servant  and  children  wTo  hid 
been  sleeping  ever  sineo  we  left  Pe.erbo^u.h      We  „„w 
descended  the  steep  bank,  and  prepared  to  crot  thf^p    J 
Dark  as  ,t  was,  I  looked  with  a  feeling  of  dread  upon  he 
foammg  waters  as  they  tumbled  over  the^  bed  of^r  hei 
wh,e  crests  flashing,  lifcike,  an,id  the  darkness  of  th/i,     " 
n..s  ,s  an  ugly  bridge  over  snoh  a  dangerous  place  "  Sdd 

t,  ^  uciuw,  ana  one  fa  so  stcn  of  hi«  iorir./^i  v,^ 

frr  breath  when  the  bridge  was  crossed,  and  D conLa  ' 

ulated  us  on  our  safe  arrival  in  Douro  ^ 

riverLrrr"''"™'!;  ""■■  J™""^  "'""S  "•«  '<^ft  ba.>k  of  the 
river,  but  when  in  sight  of  Mr.  S 's  clearing  «  l„r„„ 

tree  which  had  newly  f.,l..n  across  the  nar  f p  .' L^^X 
the  teams  to  a  sta„d.till.  The  mighty  trunk  wlucl^id  htfl  ' 
formed  one  of  the  statelv  oillars  in  i  „>  .,  i        .  ^ 

fire,  was  of  too  largo  l^^^^^^Z^!:^^ 

Wight!    seemed  an  ago,  the  malp«  nf  f>.^        .       i    >  "^"ij^ 
«.  task  in  despair.    To  go  LTd 'i:  1^:^.^*:! 
were  concealeo  in  an  impenetrable  wall  of  eedar  i  mL.r  ?,, 
ngh.^nd  side  o."  the  road,  and  its  hug:',:^!:^^;:    : 
the  precipitous  bank  of  the  river 

We  must  try  and  make  the  horses  jump  over  it,"  said 
■  .  7  "=  """y  g»t  an  upset,  but  there  is  no  helo  for  it  • 
we  must  either  make  the  experiment,  or  stay  here  ^,  1  .' 
and  I  am  too  eold  and  hungry  for  that-so  hie  g!es"  He 
urged  his  horses  to  leap  the  log;  restraining  their  aUl  fofi 
moment  as  the  sleigh  rested  on  the  top'of  the  fo^k 


H 


if* 


16 


JiOUGHlNG  IT  IN  THE  BUtiU. 


liii 


■    I 


bfti-rier,  but  so  nicely  balanced,  that  the  difference  of  u  straw 
would  almost  have  overturned  the  heavily-laden  vehicle  and 
its  helpless  inmates.  We,  however,  cleai-ed  it  in  safety.  Ho 
now  stopped,  and  gave  directions  to  his  brother  to  follow  the 
same  plan  that  ho  had  adopted;  but  whether  the  young  man 
had  less  coolness,  or  the  horses  in  his  team  were  more  diffi- 
cult  to  manage,  I  caimot  tell :  the  sleigh,  as  it  hung  poised 
upon  the  top  of  the  log,  was  overturned  with  a  loud  crash, 
and  all  my  household  goods  and  chattels  were  scattered  over 
the  road.  Alas,  for  my  crockery  and  stone  china !  scarcely 
one  article  remained  unbroken. 

"Never  fret  about  the  china,"  said  Moodie ;  "tJiank  God, 
the  man  and  the  horses  are  uninjured." 

I  should  have  felt  more  thankful  had  the  crocks  been 
spared  too ;  for,  like  most  of  my  sex,  I  had  a  tender  regard 
for  china,  and  I  knew  that  no  fresh  supply  could  be  obtained 
in  this  part  of  the  world.     Leaving  his  brother  to  collect  the 

scattered  fragments,  D proceeded  on  his  journey.     We 

left  the  road,  and  were  winding  our  way  over  a  steep  hill, 
covered  with  heaps  of  brush  and  fallen  timber,  and  as  we 
reached  the  top,  a  light  gleamed  cheerily  from  the  windows 
of  a  log  house,  and  the  next  moment  we  were  at  my  brother's 
door. 

I  thought  my  journey  was  at  an  end;  but  here  I  was 
doomed  to  fresh  disappointment.  His  wife  was  absent  on  a 
visit  to  her  friends,  and  it  had  been  arranged  that  we  were  to 

to  stay  with  my  sister,  Mrs.  T ,  and  her  husband.     With 

all  this  I  was  unacquainted;  and  I  was  about  to  quit  the  sleigh 
and  seek  the  warmth  of  the  fire  wh.  h  I  was  told  that  I  hid 
yet  further  to  go.  Its  cheerful  glow  was  to  shed  no  warmth 
on  me,  and,  tired  as  I  was,  I  actually  buried  my  face  and  wept 
upon  the  neck  of  a  hound  which  Moodie  had  given  to  Mr. 
&«T^,  and  which  sprang  up  upon  the  sleigh  to  lick  my  face 


■i  JOnSlfST  TO  TBS  WOODH.  ]» 

*hor„  I  endured  so  many  bitter  year,  of  toil  and  ^.rroCM; 
Ited"'"      v"^'™  "•"  ™^-^°™  '™™"''"    and      ever 
the  baokwoo^::  '^'  "'«"'  "'  "^  «"'  -J"-™  - 


it  ■ 

3: 


^i 


•■*«ft**i^8p%i,. 


I.. 


20 


nouoEma  it  in  tee  bush. 


I  '"      ! 


Sis.  kl 


,11 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE    WILDERNESS,    AND     OUR    INDIAN     FRIENDS. 

rpHE  clouds  of  the  preceding  night,  instead  of  dissolving 
J-   into   snow,  brought  on  a  rapid   thaw.     A   thaw  in   the 
middle  of  winter  is  the  most  disagreeable  change  that  wm  be 
imagined.    After  several  weeks  of  clear,  bright,  bracing,  frosty 
weather,  with  a  serene  atmosphere  and  cloudless  sky,  you  awake 
one  morning  surprised  at  the  change  in  the  temperature ;  mid, 
upon  looking  out  of  the  window,  behold  the  woods  obscured 
by  a  murky  haze—not  so  dense  as  an  English  November  fog, 
but  more  black  and  lowering— and  the  heavens  shrouded  in  a 
unifoi-m  covering  of  leaden-coloured  clouds,  deepening  into  a 
livid  indigo  at  the  edge  of  the  horizon.     The  snow,  no  longer 
hard  and  glittermg,  has  become  soft  and  spongy,  and  the  foot 
slips  into  a  wet  and  insidiously-yielding  mass  at  every  step. 
From  the  roof  pours  down  a  continuous  stream  of  water,  and 
the  branches  of  the  trees  collecting  the  moisture  of  the  reck- 
ing atmosphere,  shower  it  upon  the  earth  from  every  dripping 
twig.    The  cheerless  and  uncomfortable  aspect  of  things  with- 
out never  fails  to  produce  a  corresponding  effect  upon  the 
minds  of  those  ^Wthin,  and  casts  such  a  damp  upon  the  spirits 
that  it  appears  to  destroy  for  a  time  all  sense  of  enjoyment. 
Many  persons  (and  myself  among  the   number)  are  made 
aware  of  the  approach  of  a  thimder-storm  by  an  intense  pain 
and  weight  about  the  head  j  and  I  have  heard  numbers  of 


i 


Qmadmn,  complain  that  a  thaw  always  made  them  feel  biliou. 
a..d  heavy,  and  greatly  depressed  their  animal  spirits 

\Jjt  *.^°"'  ^^f'"  '"  "'"  *""•  "'^«'  '<«»«»•>>  but  when  I 
looked  out  upon  the  cheerless  waste  I  j-ave  „n  .L  • ,  ! 

oo—myseirwiU,  hopin^for  a  .^tLfdTyl  t  l^r'^ 

but  many  morrows  came  and  went  before  a  frost  again  C 

ened  the  road  sulfioiently  for  mo  to  make  the  attempt 

ITio  prospect  from  the  windows  of  my  sister's  log  hut  wa, 

not  very  prepossessing.  Ue  small  lake  hf  front,  whicVfo  Z 

^uch  a  pretty  object  in  summer,  now  looked  like  a^ext™  e 

hold  covered  with  snow,  hemmed  in  from  the  rest  7the 

round  the  house  was  very  small,  and  only  just  reclaimed  fror^ 
the  wilderness,  and  the  greater  part  of  H  covered  with  pZ 
of  orushwood,  to  be  burned  the  first  dry  days  of  snrin!  Th! 
charred  and  blackened  stumps  on  the  few  .LsZZ  b!!„ 
cleared  durmg  the  preceding  year  were  every  thing  but  2 
turesque;  and  I  concluded,  as  I  turned,  disgusted  from  ^w 
prospect  before  me,  U,at  there  was  ver^  litUe  b Ity  ^  bl 

I  cl'r  "'^^•'7''^f •  «"'  I  —  to  this  deeisL'^dmi 
a  Canadmn  thaw,  be  it  remembered,  when  one  is  wont  Z 
view  every  object  with  jaundiced  eyes 

Moodie  had  only  been  able  to  secure  sfa.ty-six  acres  of  his 
government  grant  upon  the  Upper  Kutchawanook  Lake  1^ 
b   ng  mterpreted,  means  in  English,  the  "  Lake  of  the  Wa^r! 

IIo  had  however,  secured  a  clergy  reserve  of  two  hundred 
acres  adjouimg;  and  he  afterwards  purchased  a  finolot  wh  h 

£150.      This  was  an  enormously  high  price  for  wild  land ; 
they  originally  Jt  us  "^  "  '""'°  "P""  *™'  «"  '«■»  a™ 


if 

»f^ 

i  - 

!• 

M 

W' 

'1 

i 


«3 


HOUGHING  IT  m  TEE  BUSH. 


II 


II PW^! 


||   in   I : ; 

liiftfii 


I-:        i 


but  the  prospect  of  opening  the  Trent  and  Otonabee  for  the 
navigation  of  steamboats  and  other  smoll  craft,  was  at  that 
period  a  favourite  speculation,  and  its  practicability,  and  the 
great  advantages  to  be  derived  from  it,  were  so  widely  be- 
lieved,  as  to  raise  the  value  of  the  wild  lands  along  these  re- 
mote waters  to  an  enormous  price;  and  settlers  in  the  ^A^ 
cinity  were  eager  to  secure  lots,  at  any  sacrifice,  along  their 
shores. 

Our  government  grant  was  upon  the  lake  shore,  and  Moo- 
die  had  chosen  for  the  site  of  his  log  house  a  bank  that  sloped 
gradually  from  the  edge  of  the  water,  until  it  attained  to  the 
dignity  of  a  hill.  Along  the  top  of  this  ridge,  the  forest-road 
ran,  and  midway  down  the  hill,  our  humble  home,  already 
nearly  completed,  stood,  surrounded  by  the  eternal  forest.  A 
few  trees  had  been  cleared  in  its  immediate  vicinity,  just  suffi- 
cient to  allow  the  workmen  to  proceed,  and  to  prevent  the 
fall  of  any  tree  injuring  the  building,  or  the  danger  of  its 
taking  fire  durmg  the  process  of  burning  the  fallow. 

A,  neighbour  had  undertaken  to  build  this  rude  dwelling 
by  contract,  and  was  to  have  it  ready  for  us  by  the  first  week 
in  the  new  year.  The  want  of  boards  to  make  the  divisions 
iii  the  apartments  alone  hindered  him  from  fulfilling  his  con- 
tract. These  had  lately  been  procured,  and  the  house  was  to 
be  ready  for  our  reception  in  the  course  of  a  week.     Our 

trunks  and  baggage  had  already  been  conveyed  by  Mr.  D 

hither ;  and  in  spite  of  my  sister's  kindness  and  hospitality,  I 
longed  to  find  myself  once  more  settled  in  a  home  of  my  own. 
The  day  after  our  arrival,  I  was  agreeably  surprised  by  a 
visit  from  Monaghan,  whom  Moodie  had  once  more  taken  into 
his  service.  The  poor  fellow  was  delighted  that  his  nurse- 
child,  as  he  always  called  little  Katie,  had  not  forgotten  him, 
but  evinced  the  most  lively  satisfaction  at  the  sight  of  her 
dark  friend. 


Lis   t. 


i'4 


ms  wiLMmms,  Am  on  mDuir  fbiesds.     S3 

fh.  fi"?/™7  '"'"■"'"^'  ^"^'^  ^<""  ««■  ">  *«  house ;  and 
he  first  ftae  day,  my  sister  undertook  to  escort  me  th  gu^h 
the  wood,  to  .aspect  it.     Ti,e  propose  was  joyfully  accept  d 
and  although  1  felt  ratk.r  ti™id  when  I  f„u  Jl  .^ysjf  Xi 
my  female  companion  in  the  vast  forest,  I  kept  my  tears    o 
myself,  lest  I  should  be  laughed  at.    This'  foolid.  did  of  e.! 
eountermg  wild  beasts  in  the  woods,  1  never  could  whoUy 
shake  off  even  after  becoming  a  constant  resident  in  the^ 
gloomy  depths,  and  accustomed   to  follow  the  forest-path. 
done  or  attended  with  little  children,  daily.   Tk.  cracking  of 
an  old  bough,  or  the  hooting  of  the  owl,  was  enough  to  fill  me 
with  alarm,  and  try  my  strength  in  a  precipitate  ffight.    Often 
have  I  stopped  and  reproached  myself  for  want  of  faith  huhe 
gCK>dness  of  Providence,  and  repeated  the  te..t,  "Th   vW  ked 
ar   afra,dwhc„  no  man  pursueth :  but  the  righteous  are  as 
bold  as  a  Hon,"  as  if  u,  shame  myself  into  courage.     But  it 
would  not  do;  I  could  not  overcome  the  weakLss  of  the    ' 

teet 'the    it    """       "^  '"'^'"'  "■'"'  "^'  "«^  ^"^h  to  pro. 
tect  the  ehdd       ,.  any  danger  which  might  beset  my  path 

fZ  "'    I  \ '"""  "  ""*""  ^""'«''  ■'  ^'"  ''  «»^  like  Le 
hghtmg  with  despair. 

It  was  in  vain  that  my  husband  assured  me  that  no  person 
had  ever  been  attacked  by  wild  animals  in  the  woods,'that  a 
ehUd  m,ght  traverse  them  even  at  night  in  safety  ;  whilst 
I  knew  that  wild  animals  existed  in  thol  woods,  /c  uld   i 

d::::::;^? ""'  '"^  ""^^  ^"  ""^  '-^  -">- '— ^  «>.. 

The  snow  had  been  so  greatly  decreased  by  the  lato  ' 
haw  that  ,t  had  been  converted  into  a  eoathig  of  ice,  which 
afforded  a  dangerous  and  slippery  footing.  My  sister,  who 
had  resided  for  nearly  twelve  months  in  the  woods,  was  pro. 
vuled  for  her  walk  with  Indian  moccasins,  which  rendered 
her  quite  independent;  but  1  stumbled  at  every  step.    Tha 


't 


84 


ROUQHmO  IT  IN  THE  BUSH, 


sun  shone  brightly,  the  air  was  clear  and  invigorating,  and,  in 
spite  of  the  treacherous  ground  and  my  foolish  fears,  I  greatly 
enjoyed  my  first  walk  in  the  woods.  Naturally  of  a  cheer- 
ful,  hopeful  disposition,  my  sister  was  enthusiastic  in  her  ad- 
miration of  the  woods.  She  drew  such  a  lively  picture  of  the 
charms  of  a  summer  residence  in  the  forest  that  I  be?  .11  U> 
feel  greatly  interested  in  her  descriptions,  and  to  rejoiv  0  thac 
we  too  were  to  be  her  n(  r  neighbours  and  dwellers  iu  the 
woods ;  and  this  circumstance  not  a  little  reconciled  me  to 
the  change. 

Hoping  that  my  husband  would  derive  an  income  equal  to 
the  one  he  had  parted  with  from  the  investment  of  the  price 
of  his  commission  in  the  steamboat  stock,  I  felt  no  dread  of 
want.  Our  legacy  of  £700  had  afforded  us  means  to  purchase 
land,  build  our  house,  and  give  out  a  large  portion  of  land  to 
be  cleared,  and,  with  a  considerable  sum  of  money  still  in 
hand,  our  prospects  for  the  future  were  in  no  way  discour- 
aging. 

When  we  reached  the  top  of  the  ridge  that  overlooked  our 
cot,  my  sister  stopped,  and  pointed  out  a  large  dwelling 

among  the  trees.     "  There,  S ,"  she  said,  « is  your  home. 

When  that  black  cedar  swamp  is  cleared  away,  that  now 
hides  the  lake  from  us,  you  will  have  a  very  pretty  view." 
My  conversation  with  her  had  quite  altered  the  aspect  of  the 
country,  and  predisposed  me  to  view  things  in  the  most  favour- 
able light.  I  found  Moodie  and  Monaghan  employed  in 
piling  up  heaps  of  bush  near  the  house,  which  they  intended 
to  burn  off  by  hand  previous  to  firmg  the  rest  of  the  fallow, 
to  prevent  any  risk  to  the  building  from  fire.  The  house 
was  made  of  cedar  logs,  and  presented  a  superior  air  of  com- 
fort to  most  dwellings  of  the  same  kind.  The  dimensions 
were  thirty-six  feet  in  length,  and  thirty-two  in  breadth,  which 
gave  us  a  nice  parlour,  a  kitchen,  and  two  small  bedrooms, 


now 


TUB  WUDSBNSSS,  AND  om  imiAN  FRIENDS.       25 
Which  were  divided  by  plank  partitions.     Pantry  or  storeroom 
there  was  none;  some  rough  shelves  in  the  kitchen,  and  a 
deal  cupboard  m  a  corner  of  the  parlour,  being  the  extent  of 
our  accommodations  m  that  way  »  «xicm;  ol 

lour  and  bedroom;  but  the  kitchen,  and  the  siceping-room 
off  t  were  sf  1  knee^eep  in  chips,  and  filled  with  the  carpen- 

was?rj         J""'''  ""'  ""  °"'"  '"SS^S"-     «"*  "^  ''  -«^. " 
was  a  palace  when  compared  to  Old  Satan's  log  hut,  or  the 

mserable  eab  n  we  had  wintered  in  during  the  "evere  winl^r 

home  '"^  "  '''*  complacency  as  my  future 

WhUe  we  were  standing  ontside  the  building,  conversing 

.    r^;  ^1""^'  "  ^°""8  g™"^"''"-  "f  the  name  of  Morg^ 
who  had  lately  purchased  Innrl  in  fKnf    •  •  •.  -^^i^^gan, 

kitchen  fn  n/f  ^1'''^'^^'^^  ^^^  "^  ^^^t  vicinity,  went  into  the 
kitchen  to  light  his  pipe  at  the  stove,  and,  with  ti-ue  backwood 
carelessness,  let  the  hot  cinder  fall  among  the  dry  chips  tl^t 
~  the  floor.    A  few  minutes  after,  the  whofe  2^  wt 

w.  n     1  V~  'T'^'^  "^  P^"^"g  ^"*  th^  "^re.    Thus  were 

most  of  the  dwellings  are  composed  of  inflammable  materials 
IS  truly  astonishing.  Accustomed  to  see  enormous  fires  bla- 
zing on  every  hearth-stone,  and  to  sleep  in  front  of  these  fires 
his  bedding  often  riddled  with  holes  made  by  hot  particles  of 
wood  flying  out  during  the  night,  and  igniting  beneatii  his 
very  nose,  the  sturdy  backwoodsman  never  dreads  an  enemy 
in  the  element  that  he  is  used  to  regard  as  his  best  friend, 
m  what  awful  accidents,  what  ruinous  calamities  arise,  out 
of  this  criminal  negligence,  both  to  himself  and  others ' 

A  few  days  after  this  adventure,  we  bade  adieu  to  my  sis. 

'        VOL.  TI.  2 


n, 


■  fH 


f     /! 


tli 


26 


EOUGinNO  IT  m  THE  BUSU. 


ter,  and  took  possession  of  our  new  dwelling  and  commenced 
"  a  life  in  the  woods." 

The  first  spring  we  spent  in  comparative  ease  and  idleness. 
Our  cows  had  been  left  upon  our  old  place  during  the  winter. 
The  ground  had  to  be  cleared  before  it  could  receive  a  crop 
of  any  kind,  and  I  had  little  to  do  but  to  wander  by  the 
lake  shore,  or  among  the  woods,  and  amuse  myself.  These 
were  the  halcyon  days  of  the  bush.  My  husband  had  pur- 
chased a  very  light  cedar  canoe,  to  which  he  attached  a  keel 
and  a  sail ;  and  most  of  our  leisure  hours,  directly  the  snows 
melted,  were  spent  upon  the  water. 

These  fishing  and  shooting  excuisions  were  delightful.  Tlie 
pure  beauty  ot  the  Canadian  water,  the  sombre  but  august 
grandeur  of  the  vast  forest  that  hemmed  us  in  on  every  side 
and  shut  us  out  ft-om  the  rest  of  the  world,  soon  cast  ii  magic 
spell  i:pon  our  spirits,  and  we  began  to  feel  charmed  with  t-he 
freedom  and  solitude  around  us.  Every  object  -^as  new  to 
us.  We  felt  as  if  we  were  the  first  discoverers  of  every 
beautiful  flower  and  stately  tree  that  attracted  our  attention, 
and  we  gave  names  to  fimtustic  rocks  and  fairy  'sles^  and 
raised  imaginary  houses  and  bridges  on  every  picturesque 
spot  which  we  floated  past  during  our  aquatic  excursions.  I 
learned  the  use  of  the  paddle,  and  became  quite  a  proficient 
in  the  gentle  craft. 

It  was  not  long  before  we  received  visits  from  the  Indians, 
a  people  whose  beauty,  talents,  and  good  qualities  have  been 
somewhat  overrated,  and  invested  with  a  poetical  interest 
which  they  scarcely  deserve.  Their  honesty  and  love  of 
truth  are  the  finest  traits  in  characters  otherwise  dark  and  un- 
lovely. But  these  are  two  God-like  attributes,  and  from  thera 
spring  all  that  is  generous  and  ennobling  about  them. 

There  never  was  a  people  more  sensible  of  kindness,  or 
more  grateful  for  any  little  act  of  benevolence  exercised  to- 


THE   WILDERNESS^,  AND   OFK   rvnr..r 
"vvards  them.     We  mof-  fl.o.v,      -^u 

with  them  wore  conlLd  ir      "    *""'  ""•  "'='"<- 
they  beca.0  ^tt^c^^ToTl^ZTT-  ""^^".'^'  ""^ 

coarse  and  repulsive  features  ^!Tf^?  "'■''' *'*™'-r 
t-ti„g,  the  observing  faSes  ^4  °t:l;:,/::  T'  "^ 
scarcely  developed  •  the  eir*  ].  ,  "itellectual  ones 

face;  the  eyes  LkiZ  f  ZtT:'  "'  ''™'»  ""> 
and  far  apart;  the  chLk-bon  ^JI^  "'"l-"'  7^-"'-- 
flat,  the  nostrils  very  round  •  thfr  T    '  *"  '™S  *"d 

and  brutal;  the  JuthT^l  „  l^ rfs'?'  T^' 
mination;  the  teeth  l«v^.  ferocity  and  sullen  deter- 

«>outh  ofw;::;:  :z:  :zx^''^'^'''-  ^« 

the  male ;  the  Jips  ar.  fuller  tfeiaw  1^  "  "'°"  """  "^ 
smile  is  simple  and  agreeable  C  ^'°-''"''"^' ""^  ">« 
light-hearted  set,  and  th!,>  "„  Lt  huTT  ""  "  ""^^'^' 
;^™  a  strange  contrast  to  thirraS—^ 

and^^te wZfpVo?:  LT"  '^"^^'^'^  '^  ^^  -'- 
mediate  observation'  ^    "^   '      *'^'  '"""^  '""'^'-  ">>•  °™  '- 

A  dry  eedar  swamp,  not  far  from  the  house  bv  th.  ,  > 
shore,  had  been  their  usual  nla,.o  „f  '  ^  ™  ^'^^^ 

years.  He  whole  1,1070  I™d  1"  T""^""""  '"'  ""^ 
with  maple-trees,  and  had  oriir  t"°''  "'  "'^  °°™'«'' 
bush.  Although  the  favourit  tot  [  .  ""  '"'""  "'«"■- 
of  stranLs.thr:t  Z!.!:. '',''."- P-»^  »">  the 
-     .      .11.1  ..v^ucun;u  tne  place,  to  make 


I!! 


hands 


!>ii 


I^jI 


28 


EouaniNa  it  jy  the  bush. 


canoes  and  baskets,  to  fish  and  slioot,  and  occasionally  to  fol- 
low their  old  occupation.  Scarcely  a  week  passed  away  with- 
out my  being  visited  by  the  dark  strangers  ;  and  as  my  hus- 
band never  allowed  them  to  cat  with  the  servants,  but  brouiiht 
them  to  his  own  table,  they  soon  grew  friendly  and  communi- 
cative, and  would  point  to  every  object  that  attracted  their 
attention,  asking  a  thousand  questions  as  to  its  use,  the  mate- 
rial of  which  it  was  made,  and  if  we  were  inclined  to  exchance 
it  for  their  commodities  1  With  a  large  map  of  Canada,  they 
were  infinitely  delighted.  In  a  moment  they  recognized  every 
bay  and  headland  in  Ontario,  and  almost  screamed  with  delight 
when,  following  the  course  of  the  Trent  with  their  fingers,  they 
came  to  their  own  lake. 

How  eagerly  each  pointed  out  the  spot  to  his  fellows ; 
how  intently  their  black  heads  were  bent  down,  and  their 
dark  eyes  fixed  upon  the  map !  What  strange,  uncouth  excla- 
mations of  surprise  burst  from  their  lips  as  they  rapidly 
repeated  the  Indian  names  for  every  lake  and  river  on  this 
wonderful  piece  of  paper  ! 

The  old  chief,  Peter  Nogan,  begged  hard  for  the  coveted 
treasure.  He  would  give  "  Canoe,  venison,  duck,  fish,  for  it ; 
and  more,  by  and  by." 

I  felt  sorry  that  I  was  unable  to  gratify  his  wishes ;  but 
the  map  had  cost  upwards  of  six  dollars,  and  was  daily  con- 
sulted by  my  husband,  in  reference  to  the  names  and  situa- 
tions of  localities  in  the  neighbourhood. 

I  had  in  my  possession  a  curious  Japanese  sword,  which 
had  been  given  to  me  by  an  uncle  of  Tom  Wilson's — a  strange 
gift  to  a  young  lady ;  but  it  was  on  account  of  its  curiosity, 
and  had  no  reference  to  my  v  rlike  propensities.  This  sword 
was  broad,  and  three-sided  ii  the  blade,  and  in  shape  resem- 
bled a  moving  snake.  The  liilt  was  formed  of  a  hideous 
carved  image  of  one  of  their  war-gods ;  and  a  more  villainous- 


I 


TITK  WILDEmssS,  Am  OUR  MDIAN  FSmms.      29 
looking  wretch  was  never  conceived  hv  jK„ 
imagination.     Ho  was  rcnrosem  d  in  f  '»•  '""^' .<"^'»«»<I 
eagle's  claws,  that  formed  llirl       ,       "^  """"'''''  "'« 
!"«  legs  terminated  inll  "li^     '.t    f  "P""  "^^  ''"^'•'" ' 

-pound  Of  heast  and^nXT.^    p"r';^t\rhir''"*" 
beiiiff  covered  wifh  n.ofi,        .1     ,      ^^       ^       ^'  "^^  person 

51.0  Le  0    til  awM  :i      '"""  "'*  '™'^'  ^'"'Sg'  '»-• 

^pito  of  its  seirfkrrr:  ""'r  "^  ^'"^'  "»"• '» 

join  could  bo  found  L  f "     '  1      .    ""'""^-    ^"^  "•'"^''  "^  " 
and  highly  poltLd       ""  "''''''^''  "'^'*  "^  "^  hard  wood, 

covery  to' his  co;*;:,^ —"?''' 'k  ™''°^'''"' "''* 
brought  it  to  me  t„!l„m    !)  ,     ™'  "'>'''"*•  a""!  they 

wd  the  Mir  t'oMrertiTt  rr  -^  "■•^  '^^-^  *^' 

longed  to  a  very  fierce  peo^wt:  ,i™dT  IZTV!^'  "^ 
the  Great  Salt  Lake ;  thaf  they  were  not  ChrU,'  °™' 
were,  but  said  their  nravo.=  /  7  ""  """  Christians,  as  we 

gold,'and  ivory,  dSTndth:T  ""'^  "^  »«->  »1 
that  before  they  wentTto  TL  1  "  ™'  """  "^  'h^"" ! 
that  hideous  IC^Z  rj^b^'"  tt  T'--  " 
hands.    The  Indiinc  wo.^  u-  i  /  ^^"  ^^^^^  <^wn 

passed  the  sword  ftori^fl^  "T"'  '^  '"'^  '^"'"°''-  "-d 
-Owgh !_A  god'"  '"  ""^  "*'=''  ^^^'"'^'"S.  "A god! 

:crs:r-----S:i::rt::r 
i«.s„rr  thr  s^e  rrr:  "'*  *^''°"-  '^^'"^- 

to  .atify  their  Syrb^-I^^  Z^  ^^ 


lii 


V! 


II  "  4 
11 


I* 


30 


Rouonma  it  m  the  bush. 


The  manufacture  of  the  sheath,  which  had  caused 'me  much 
perplexity,  was  explained  by  old  Peter  in  a  minute.  "  'Tid 
burnt  out,"  he  said.  "  Instrument  made  like  sword — heat 
red-hot — burnt  through — polished  outside." 

Had  I  demanded  a  whole  fleet  of  canoes  for  my  Japanese 
sword,  I  am  certain  they  would  have  agreed  to  the  bargain. 
The  Indian  possesses  great  taste,  which  is  displayed  in  the 
carving  of  his  paddles,  in  the  shape  of  his  canoes,  in  the  ele- 
gance and  symmetry  of  his  bows,  in  the  cut  of  his  leggings 
and  moccasins,  the  sheath  of  his  hunting-knife,  and  in  all  the 
little  ornaments  in  which  he  delights.  It  is  almost  impossil)!e 
for  a  settler  to  imitate  to  perfection  an  Indian's  cherry- wood 
paddle.  My  husband  made  very  creditable  attempts,  ])ut 
still  there  was  something  wanting— the  elegance  of  the  Indian 
fmish  was  not  there.  If  you  show  them  a  good  print,  they 
invariably  point  out  the  most  natural  and  the  best-executed 
figure  in  the  group.  They  are  particularly  delighted  with 
pictures,  examine  them  long  and  carefully,  and  seem  to  feel 
an  artist-like  pleasure  in  observing  the  effect  produced  by 
light  and  shade. 

I  had  been  showing  John  Nogan,  the  eldest  son  of  old  Peter, 
some  beautiful  coloured  engravings  of  celebrated  females ; 
and  to  my  astonishment  he  pounced  upon  the  best,  and 
grunted  out  his  admiration  in  the  most  approved  Indian 
fashion.  After  having  looked  for  a  long  time  at  all  the 
pictures  very  attentively,  he  took  his  dog  Sancho  upon  his 
knee,  and  showed  him  the  pictures,  with  as  much  gravity  as 
if  the  animal  really  could  have  shared  in  his  pleasure.  The 
vanity  of  these  grave  men  is  highly  amusing.  They  seem 
perfectly  unconscious  of  it  themselves ;  and  it  is  exhibited  in 
the  most  childlike  manner. 

Peter  and  his  son  John  were  taking  tea  with  us,  when  we 
were  joined  by  my  brother,  Mr.  S .     The  latter  was 


..•ir^i&tix! 


THE  r>-ILDEBNESS,  Am  OVB  INOUy  FniEXr.,.       31 

xu  marry  such  a  man  as  Jones      Whvr  k^' 
ugly  as  Peter  here."  ^'  "<^ «  M 

particle,  b„t  ttoItS^^^^^^^^^^^  ""  '"^  ^™"- 

eye  as  ,t  glared  upon  my  unconscious  brotl.or      r  J    .'  i 
have  received  such  ^  fio...     i         ^         '^rotJior.     i  would  not 

•lone,  obtai,';:  ;^  itti :  "i  ;"'^r'"'  *""  ''-'^^ 

-used  by  his  father's  in^^^f '  nf^.f f  V'"  '''"""^ 
the  chief;  and  though  he  ke' t "  "Letl"  st  n.t\  M  ';""' 
was  convulsed  with  suppressed  laugh2.       '        """"^  '™'"'' 

A  plainer  human  being  than  noor  P^f^,.  «     i^ 
™»^-ned ;  yet  he  ce«ainfy  deen.rd    ,'        ^rlr  ^  '^ 

ve.yfa.go.fatX..s':iix:r'''^i:^;-^-  ^ ' 

of  tawny  flesh  •  and  hnt  f.   ,k  ''''■'  *  "loimtain 

sion  which  1  ke  Tt^t       t  '""'""''  ^""''■■"'""•ed  exprcs- 

spread  a.;';:rd';;f^;t^Tr:^^^^^^^^ 

hideous  ^       '  ^^^  ^""^^  b<^en  termed 

nappy  mother  of  five  or  six,  were  as  cunning  anrf 

cr — 


f  I 


82 


nOUOHINQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSH, 


avaricious  as  herself.  One  day  she  visited  mo,  bringing  along 
with  her  a  very  pretty  covered  basket  for  sale.  I  asked  her 
what  she  wanted  for  it,  but  could  obtam  from  her  no  satisfac- 
tory answer.  I  show*.!  her  a  small  piece  of  silver.  She  shook 
her  head.  I  tempted  her  with  pork  and  flour,  but  she  required 
neither.  I  had  just  given  up  the  idea  of  dealing  with  her,  in 
despair,  when  she  suddenly  seized  upon  me,  and,  lifting  up 
my  gown,  pointed  exultingly  to  my  quilted  petticoat,  clapping 
her  hands,  and  lau^  ling  immoderately. 

Another  time  she  led  mo  all  over  the  house,  to  show  me 
what  she  wanted  iii  exchange  for  hmket.  My  patience  was 
well  nigh  exhausted  in  following  her  from  place  to  place,  in 
her  attempt  to  discover  the  coveted  article,  when,  hanging 
upon  a  peg  in  iny  chamber,  she  espied  a  pair  of  trowsers  be- 
longing to  my  husbanrl's  logging-suit.  The  riddle  was  solved. 
With  a  joyful  cry  she  pointed  to  them,  exclaiming  "Take 
basket.— Give  them  !"  It  was  with  no  small  difficulty  that  I 
rescued  the  indispensables  from  her  grasp. 

From  this  woman  I  learned  a  story  of  Indian  coolness  and 
courage  which  made  a  deep  impression  on  my  mind.  One  of 
their  squaws,  a  near  relation  of  her  own,  had  accompanied 
her  husband  on  a  hunting  expedition  into  the  forest.  He  had 
been  very  successful,  and  having  killed  more  deer  than  they 
could  well  carry  home,  he  went  to  the  house  of  a  white  man 
to  dispose  of  some  of  it,  leaving  the  squaw  to  taKe  care  of  the 
rest  until  his  return.  She  sat  carelessly  upon  the  log  with  liis 
huntmg-knife  in  her  hand,  when  she  heard  the  breaking  of 
branches  near  her,  and,  turning  round,  beheld  a  great  bear 
only  a  few  paces  from  her. 

It  was  too  late  to  retreat ;  and  seeing  that  the  animal  was 
very  hungry,  and  determined  to  come  to  close  quarters,  she 
rose,  and  placed  her  back  against  a  small  tree,  holding  her 
knife  close  to  her  breast^  and  hi  a  straight  line  with  the  bear. 


Tho  shaggy  monster  carao  on     Shn  rnr»  •     j 

When  the     d  »  "^^^   ^  J^l  »"f  -""  <'™''  "t  hor  feet. 

1-  never  was  near  en^  ;h  to  on!  S""  "7"''.'"'=  "■»' 
cvcept  in  largo  mm,mnL  1!  T    u  '°  '''""' '' !  "■»'. 

ger.  'the,  rarS,  ::::':'„  "xt'iir^  r "" ''  ""^■ 

ino,  in  much  Jread  as  th.v  n(V       ^       .       '^"'''  "■■  ^l™--- 

P;o..  fastenh,,  -.»   ttfthtTt  :™^  r^  rH'''t 
chiws,  (rem  which  a  person  in  f„  >   -,  „    ^  *^''""  ™'' 

l".n»clf  without  first  receiving  '"  "°'"''  ^'^''^^■'''y  ^^'^ 

of  this  animal  is  ve^  terS    'I  ""^T.'  "  T"''     '^'«  '^^ 
human  creature  in  mortuj:';'        ™'''"«  ""^  ^•'"''''»  »'  » 

L ;.  f  ua:T:urai::,^'-!:ktr^^^^^^^^^^^^  -      > 

not_j-ou  play  mo  ono  of  your  own  songs  1"  ^'  ^'"'- 

les, — but  no  good" 

a  wlt;^r"  '"  '^  '"^  J"^«<'  o^  «^'-     Cannot  you  give  me 

"ll'u^tXr-"  "''  -  <""^-  ^-"^^  of  the  head. 
gooi?o  glllrr'^'"  ■"^"'"--="'  -  -  of  contempt.-..No 

aaZ:/aiLS  ;:u:xr5  "^  '■  '^"^^'"^'  '"^  ^- 

"^'-'-Hlove^o,  ° 


■  ! 


VOL.  II. 


ig_very  much—bad— bad- 
2* 


-no  good 


■isvj*,., 


84 


Rovonma  it  ijv  the  bush. 


m  % 


m 


!■ 


for  Christian  man.  Indian  song  no  good  for  white  ears."  Tliig 
was  very  tantalizing,  as  their  songs  sounded  very  sweetly  from 
the  lips  of  their  squaws,  and  I  had  a  great  desire  and  curiosity 
to  get  some  of  them  rendered  into  English. 

To  my  inisband  they  gave  the  name  of  "the  musician" 
but  I  have  forgotten  the  Indian  word.  It  signified  the  maker 
of  sweet  sounds.  They  listened  with  intense  delight  to  the 
notes  of  his  flute,  maintained  a  breathless  silence  during  the 
performance  ;  their  dark  eyes  flashing  in  fierce  light  at  a  mar- 
tial  strain,  or  softening  with  the  plaintive  and  tender. 

The  affection  of  Indian  parents  to  their  children,  and  the  dcf- 
erence  which  they  pay  to  tlie  aged,  is  i:,  beautiful  and  touching 
trait  in  their  character. 

One  extremely  cold,  wintry  day,  as  I  was  huddled  with  my 
little  ones  over  the  stove,  the  door  softly  unclosed,  and  the 
moccasined  foot  of  an  Indian  crossed  the  floor.  I  raised  my 
head,  for  I  was  too  much  accustomed  to  their  sudden  appear- 
ance  at  any  hour  to  feel  alarmed,  and  perceived  a  tall  woman 
standing  silently  and  respectfully  before  me,  wrapped  in  a 
large  blanket.  The  moment  she  caught  my  eye  she  dropped 
the  folds  of  her  covering  from  around  her,  and  laid  at  my  feet 
the  attenuated  figure  of  a  boy,  about  twelve  years  of  age,  who 
was  in  the  last  stage  of  consumption. 

"  Papouse  die,"  she  said,  mournfully,  clasping  her  hands 
against  her  breast,  and  looking  down  upon  the  suffering  lad 
with  the  most  heartfelt  expression  of  maternal  love,  while 
largo  tears  trickled  down  her  dark  face.  "  Mood  ie's  squaw 
save  papouse— poor  Indian  woman  much  glad." 

Her  child  was  beyond  all  human  aid.  I  looked  anxiously 
upon  him,  and  knew,  by  the  pinched-up  features  and  purple 
hue  of  his  wasted  cheek,  that  he  had  not  many  hours  to 
live.  I  could  only  answer  with  tears  her  ."-jonizing  appeal 
to  my  skill. 


i.i-^.J-L  -i_ 


I  gave  him  a  tea   poontT  '"'"""'  '"■^  ''™'  »-«'«»»"• 

avidity,  but  co'Zt  rt       "'™"'-J'-"'^.  -Wch  ho  took  with 
"Papouse     L  -  '  "  """"""  ""  '™  stomach. 

alone      No  l.tl^T""';  ''^  '•°°'  ^™""'" '  "»>»"- 
«o  papouso ;  the  niotlicr  all  alone." 

bhe  began  re-adjusting  the  poor  suflerer  in  her  blar-c.t     i 

inain.     She   said   linlo    f.   ,       /    '      ^""^  ""^^'^^^^^  ^o  re- 
«xiB   saia   little,  but  her  face  exnrps«p/l  fi,     i 

anguish;  she  took  up  her  ™ou™f,!  load  Z    d  for  '        "''' 
h.3  wasted,  burning  hand  in  hers,  and  iX     to  ^    ""'""' 

My  heart  followed  her  a   loiirr  -i^.,,,         . 
journey,     aiink  what  this  wla, !  ll:!  I  '"^  "l™='«"y 
that  dying  son,  when  she  had  carr   d  a  hd  oTh  •'""  ''"'" 

through  the  deep  snow  upon  he  •  1  ?^" ''^  ""*'' 

hope  of  .y  hein'g  able'tr  il  tX^  "i:!"^'  1"  '"^ 
broken  mother!  I  learned  fr„,„  t  ,^  ,  '  "'"'  •"""* 
days  aftor  that  th  !«  ^ '™J"f '-"''r^"-  -"« 
Iron,  his  mother,  got  home  "'""'•'^  ""^^  ^'''^"''eth 

.uaws,  and  p„.,  d  I^as^h^wra'^rrr  a^lf  1 
at  Jast  determined  to  give  them  thn  „o      /•  .i. 

*  Mud  Lake,  or  Lake  Shcmcmg^  i^  i„ii^ 


36 


EOUaillNG  IT  IN  THE  BUSE. 


\\  '\f  ^ 


>!     1.  I..  .  |,  i,       .,   |^»§ 


haired  Indian  I  ever  saw,  and  on  that  account  I  regarded  her 

with  peculiar  interest.     I  knew  that  she  was  the  wife  of  a 

chief,  by  the  scarlet  embroidered  leggings,  which  only  the 

wives  and  daughters  of  chiefs  are  allowed  to  wear.    The  old 

squaw  had  a  very  pleasing  countenance,  but  I  tried  in  vain  to 

draw  her  into  conversation.  She  evidently  did  not  understand 

me ;  and  the  Muskrat  squaw,  and  Betty  Cow,  were  laughing  at 

my  attempts  to  draw  her  out.  I  administered  supper  to  them 

with  my  own  hands,  and  after  I  had  satisfied  their  wants, 

(which  is  no  very  easy  task,  for  they  have  great  appetites,)  I 

told  our  servant  to  bring  in  several  spare  mattresses  and 

blankets  for  their  use.     «  Now  mind,  Jenny,  and  give  the  old 

squaw  the  best  bed,"  I  said ;  « the  others  are  young  and  can 

put  up  with  a  little  inconvenience." 

The  old  Indian  glanced  at  me  with  her  keen,  bright  eye ; 
but  I  had  no  idea  that  she  comprehended  what  I  said.  Some 
weeks  after  this,  as  I  was  sweeping  over  my  parlour  floor  a 
slight  tap  drew  me  to  the  door.  On  opening  it  I  perceived 
the  old  squaw,  who  immediately  slipped  into  my  hand  a  set 
of  beautifully-embroidered  bark  trays,  fitting  one  within  the 
other,  and  exhibiting  the  very  best  sample  of  the  porcupine- 
quill  work.  While  I  stood  wondering  what  this  might  mean, 
the  good  old  creature  fell  upon  my  neck,  and  kissing  me,  ex' 
claimed,  «  You  remember  old  squaw— make  her  comfortable  \ 
Old  squaw  no  forget  you.  Keep  them  for  her  sake,"  and  be- 
fore  I  could  detain  her  she  ran  down  the  hill  with  a  swiftness 
which  seemed  to  bid  defiance  to  years.  I  never  saw  this  in- 
teresting  Indian  again,  and  I  concluded  that  she  died  during 
the  winter,  for  she  must  have  been  of  a  great  age. 

A  friend  was  staying  with  us,  who  wished  much  to  obtain 
a  likeness  of  Old  Peter.  I  promised  to  try  and  make  a 
sketch  of  the  old  man  the  next  tune  '  paid  us  a  visit.  That 
very  afternoon  he  brought  us  some  ducks  in  exchange  for 


pork,  and  J  Toodie  asked  him  to  stw  nn^  t„i 

W  with  him  and  Us  tn^Mri^  te"  '  7  "'"k'" 

arrayed  himself  in  «  r..~„  v.i     ,  '       ^  ^^^  ^^^  ^ad 

the  seams  a     deeoriritt'""'''' '"""''  "■"-  '^'^'  »^ 
kKgin..s  and  LTT  "■"  '"'"^  8"^  ""te™"-     His 

cal  cap  uL  y'T!!,      "■'  ''''"'"•  '"=  •""*  "  «•>«  cloth  coni: 

JJ  upon  lus  head,  oriamented  with  a  deei-V  fnii  a     a 

blue,  and  several  cock's  feathers     Tr  ,  ^""^ 

-t:«t7rd:^r?^^^^^^^ 

hung  opposite    rtt  in     r  "  '"""  ^'-ving-glass  tha 

apartthatlmighTnot  .tt^etlT  "•"■"?'""•    "'''™^ 
bly  faitliful  likeness  of  h!      ,       '''''''™"''"'  '  8°'  "  tolera- 

curing,  to  sho:r*v„;r;:dit'r  T'^"°'- 

handed  over  to  Mr  K-      %,  ,  ?  '^""■y-  '  1"'°% 

occupation  and  the  ^hec^f  it  iL"'  .      °"«''  "'^^""■'  ">? 

ome  old  man.  He  rs:,i::t~rK::itr" 

atiX ;  ""^  rrr- """ "  '-^^^  -"r-tioLfei;:;  '::• 

wam-rakXot^rl.   ""TV"^""'  "^  ■•'' -> 
hands  together,  Lrch„cS:fJth7;"^Ht^r^^^^ 

;wtt:ithir^r  "'^"^^  ^'---'^^- :^ 

pointed  to  etrtlTar'a^ET^r^^^^^^^^^^      He 
-th  peculiar  glee  on  the  cap  and  blue  deer's  LT  '"''" 

A  few  days  after  this,  I  was  pauithig  a  beautiful  );»i 
snow-bird,  that  our  man  had  «hof  ™,t  f  ,  ^*"™"'  httle 
alighted  near  the  doo^  ™  so  tte^I  "  "'"  '"^  *"* 
which  I  was  putting  the  fi  isZg  tr^k^tLTl  7d  *"''  ^ 
serve  the  stealthy  entrance  (for  th  y  »U  w«e  e  tT  ^ 
-n..Iooki.g red  man,  tUIa Lender  J^^.tsril 


i:!     V' 


\ 


88 


f'l 


ROUGHING  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


over  my  paper  to  grasp  the  dead  bird  from  which  I  was  copy, 
ing,  and  which  as  rapidly  transferred  it  to  the  side  of  the 
painted  one,  accompanying  the  act  with  the  deep  guttural 
note  of  approbation,  the  unmusical,  savage  "  Owgh." 

My  guest  then  seated  himself  with  the  utmost  gravity  in  a 
rocking-chair,  directly  fronting  me,  and  made  the  modest  de- 
mand  that  I  should  paint  a  likeness  of  him,  after  the  following 
quaint  fashion : 

"  Hoodie's  squaw  know  much — make  Peter  Nogan  toder 
day  on  papare— make  Jacob  to-day— Jacob  young— great 
hunter— give  much  duck— venison— to  squaw." 

Although  I  felt  rather  afraid  of  my  fierce-looking  visitor,  I 
could  scarcely  keep  my  gi-avity ;  there  was  such  an  air  of 
pompous  self-approbation  about  the  Indian,  such  a  sublime 
look  of  conceit  in  his  grave  vanity. 

"  Moodie's  squaw  cannot  do  every  thing  ;  she  cannot  paint 
young  men,"  said  I,  rising,  and  putting  away  my  drawing 
materials,  upon  which  he  kept  his  eye  intently  fixed,  with  a 
hungry,  avaricious  expression.  I  thought  it  best  to  place  the 
coveted  objects  beyond  his  ^each.  After  sitting  for  some 
time,  and  watching  all  my  movements,  he  withdrew,  with  a 
sullen,  disappointed  air.  This  man  was  handsome,  but  his  ex- 
pression  was  vile.  Though  he  often  came  to  the  house,  I 
never  could  reconcile  myself  to  his  countenance. 

Late  one  very  dark,  stormy  night,  three  Indians  begged  to 
be  allowed  to  sleep  by  the  kitchen  stove.  The  maid  was 
frightened  out  of  her  wits  at  the  sight  of  these  strangers,  who 
were  Mohawks  from  the  Indian  woods  upon  the  Bay  of 
Quint6,  and  they  brought  along  with  them  a  horse  and  cutter. 

The  night  was  so  stormy,  that,  after  consulting  our  man 

Jacob  Faithful,  as  we  usually  called  him— I  consented  to 
grant  their  petition,  although  they  were  quite  strangers,  and 
taller  and  fiercer-looking  than  our  friends  the  Missasaguas. 


I  was  putting  my  children  to  bed    whra  .!,»     •  > 
n.sl,i„g  in,  out  of  brenth.     "The  Lord  nT.  ^      """" 

if  cue  of  those  uild  men  has  not  puUrf  off  ,         *"'  """■"■»• 

i;^.tting  mending  them  be.rtL"r:^:72rrt 

finilttr'"'  '*"'  "'*  "^'  "■"'  '^"^  *^  poor  '•-'"0-  to 

The  simple  girl  had  never  once  thou<Tlif  nf  fh-      i 
pao^ying  her  outraged  sense  of  proprie?    "'  ""  ^""'  ^' 

-un^ritllrrldiWel  t  "  ""f"  "■"'  '"^^  ■^''"  ■^'^«"""->' 
a  Europeararalltr''.  "'"'■''  ^''""°'  ""  ""'-'^ci  by 

cation  of  "h  ftt  71  "".T"'*  ^  ^'"«"'-  "-"'P'i'-^ 
Pitehed  their  Lto'wwir  aT::'^"^'  ""^  '"^'^"^  "^^ 
the  males  .ere  aLent  ^n  T^iZ:^t;,Z  Z?'  ^" 
try,  and  had  left  two  women  behin!  to  Lt tre  o'f  1 7'" 
and  Its  contents  Mr«  t^     at  ^^    "^  ^^nip 

sanMoorl  aytSJ:?,>""  ""f  ^^  ohild.  an,  and  Su! 
ful  squaw  over  sat^  -kl  ™'  """^  *'  ""'^  '^"'^  "^o"""- 
this  girl's  history  alwe??'''  '°™*'''^  '"'^^^'""S  "^out 
been  dro^etdurl  a  ,dd  ''^  "PP^"'™^''-  Her  father  had 
canoe  onl  ony  S:.",/?.''"™""''  "''■^'  ^™™P''^  "^^ 
accident  from  L  sh  /erand  tsTe  'rTo;  "  T'""^^"  '"^ 

^rre'ret'-riT '°  ^'-^-"  - -" 
bW;.utitr:::;r;rm:ri:r— -- 
accti::d::^dii/t:r::^^^^^^^^^^^     '^  --^^ 

l-appy  hunti„g.ground::rut'  nS  haurthriaT'"  ""'"' 
in  which  he  lost  his  life.     His  bodv  i,T      /  ""  ""^ 

island,  which  the  Indians  .^er^ll^:^^  ■°'"'  '""'^ 
po«^»off„od,_tobac.o,orammCL:t^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
but  he  .  never  mterred  with  the  rest  of  hi.  people.    hT"  U 


I) 


'I 


40 


MouQuma  IT  m  the  buse. 


dren  are  considered  unlucky,  and  few  willingly  unite  them- 
selves to  the  fema]^!S  of  the  fandly,  lest  a  portion  of  the  father's 
curse  should  be  visited  on  thera. 

The  orphan  Indian  girl  g'  -lerally  kept  aloof  from  the  rest, 
and  seemed  so  lonely  i  A  companionless,  that  she  soon 
attracted  my  attention  and  syi:^pathy,  and  a  hearty  feeling 
of  good-will  sprang  up  between  us.  Her  features  were  small 
and  regular,  her  face  oval,  and  her  large,  dark,  loving  eyes 
were  full  of  tenderness  and  sensibility,  but  a^^  bright  and  ?hy 
as  those  of  the  deer.  A  rich  vermilion  glow  burnt  upon  her 
olive  cheek  and  lips,  and  set  off  the  dazzling  -whiteness  of  her 
even  and  pearly  teeth.  She  was  small  of  status,  with  deli- 
cate little  hands  and  feet,  and  her  figure  was  elastic  and  graco 
ful.  She  was  a  beai^tifal  child  of  nature.  ;md  her  laJiannamo 
signified  "  the  voice  of  angry  ^\  Atcrs."  Poor  girl,  she  hid 
been  a  child  of  grief  and  tears  i''*'.)ra  her  birth !  Her  mother 
was  a  Mohawk,  from  whom  she,  m  ;,«J1  probability,  derived 
lier  superior  personal  attractioiu, ;  for  tiiey  are  very  far 
before  the  MissaK';nguas  in  this  respect. 

My  friend  and  neighbour,  Emilia  S ,  the  Avife  of  a  naval 

ofticer,  '.vho  lived  about  a  mile  distant  from  me,  through  the 
bush,  had  come  to  spend  (be  day  with  me ;  and  hearing  that 
the  Indians  r'^re  in  the  swarap,  and  the  men  away,  we  deter- 
mined to  takt  ;\  few  trifles  to  the  camp,  m  the  way  of  presents, 
and  spend  an  hour  in  chattmg  with  the  squaws. 

What  a  beautifid  moonlight  night  it  was,  as  light  as  day ! 
— the  great  forest  sleeping  tranquilly  beneath  the  cloudless 
heavens — not  a  sound  to  disturb  the  deep  repose  of  nature  but 
the  whispering  of  the  breeze,  which,  during  the  most  profound 
calm,  creeps  through  the  lofty  pine  tops.  We  bounded  down 
the  steep  bank  to  the  lake  shore.  Life  is  a  blessing,  a  precious 
boon  indeed,  in  such  an  hour,  and  we  felt  happy  in  the  mere 
consciousness  of  existence — the  glorious  privilege  of  pouring 


T;S 


1  it 


I 


THE  WILDERNESS,  AND  OUR  INDIAN  FRIENDS.        41 

out  the  sUent  adoration  of  the  heart  to  the  Great  Father  in 
his  universal  temple. 

On  entering  the  wigwam,  which  stood  witWn  a  few  yards 
of  the  clearing,  in  the  middle  of  a  thick  group  of  cedars,  we 
found  Mrs.  Tom  alone  with  her  elvish  childr.    .  seated  before 
the  great  fire  that  burned  in  the  centre  of  the  camp;  she  was 
misy  boiling  some  bark  in  an  iron  spider.     The  little  boys  in 
red  flannel  shirts,  which  were  their  only  covering,  were  tor- 
mentmg  a  puppy,  which  seemed  to  take  their  pinching  and 
pommelling  in  good  part,  for  it  neither  attempted  to  bark  nor 
to  bite,  but  like  the  eels  in  the  story,  submitted  to  the  infllc 
tion  because  it  was  used  to  it.     Mrs.  Tom  greeted  us  with  a 
gnn  of  pleasure,  and  motioned  us  to  sit  down  upon  a  buffalo 
skm,  which,  with  a  courtesy  so  natiu-al  to  the  Indians,  she  had 
placed  near  her  for  our  accommodation. 

"You  are  all  alone,"  said  I,  glancing  round  the  camp. 
Ye  es ;  Indian  away  hunting-Upper  Lakes.    Come  home 
with  much  deer." 

"  And  Susan,  where  is  she  ?" 

"  "Q^j  and  by,"  (meaning  that  she  was  coming).     «  Gone  to 
fetch  water— ice  thick— chop  with  axe— take  long  time  " 

As  she  ceased  speaking,  the  old  blanket  that  formed  the 
door  of  the  tent  was  withdrawn,  and  the  g  rl,  bearing  two 
pails  of  water,  stood  in  the  open  space,  in  the  white  moon- 
ight.     The  glow  of  the  fire  streamed  upon  her  dark,  floating 
locks,  danced  in  the  black,  glistening  eye,  and  gave  a  deeper 
blush  to  the  olive  cheek !    She  would  have  made  a  beautiful 
picture ;  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  would  have  rejoiced  in  such  a 
model— so  simply  graceful  and  unaffected,  the  very  heau  idkal 
of  savage  life  and  unadorned  nature.     A  smile  of  recognition 
passed  between  us.     She  put  down  her  burden  beside  Mrs. 
Tom,  and  noiselessly  glided  to  her  seat. 

We  had  scarcely  exchanged  a  few  words  with  our  favour- 


«' 


^;nf 


42 


ROUGniNG  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


Hi 


f    1 


j  i '  '   '■  l'^ 


;  t 


ite,  when  the  old  squaw,  placing  her  hand  against  her  ear,  ex- 
claimed, "  Whist !  whist !" 

"What  is  it?"  cried  Emilia  and  I,  starting  to  our  feet. 
"  Is  there  any  danger  V 

"A  deer— a  deer— in  bush!"  whispered  the  squaw,  seizing 
a  rifle  that  stood  in  a  corner.  "I  hear  sticks  crack— a  grea't 
way  off.     Stay  here  !" 

A  great  way  off  the  animal  must  have  been,  for  though 
Emilia  and  I  listened  at  the  open  door,  an  advantage  which 
the  squaw  did  not  enjoy,  we  could  not  hear  the  least  sound : 
all  seemed  still  as  death.  The  squaw  whistled  to  an  old 
hound,  and  went  out. 

"  Did  you  hear  any  thing,  Susan  T 
She  smiled,  and  nodded. 
"  Listen ;  the  dog  bas  found  the  track." 
The  next  moment  the  discharge  of  a  rifle,  and  the  deep 
haying  of  the  dog,  woke  up  the  sleeping  echoes  of  the  woods; 
and  the  girl  started  off  to  help  the  old  squaw  to  bring  in  the 
game  that  she  had  shot. 

The  Indians  are  great  imitators,  and  possess  a  nice  tact  in 
adopting  the  customs  and  manners  of  those  with  whom  they 
associate.  An  Indian  is  Nature's  gentleman— never  familiar, 
coarse,  or  vulgar.  If  he  take  a  meal  with  you,  he  waits  to' 
see  how  you  make  use  of  the  implements  on  the  table,  and 
the  manner  in  which  you  eat,  which  he  imitates  with  a  grave 
decorum,  as  if  he  had  been  accustomed  to  the  same  usages 
from  childhood.  He  never  attempts  to  help  himself,  or  de- 
mand more  food,  but  waits  patiently  until  you  perceive  what 
he  requires.  I  was  perfectly  astonished  at  this  innate  polite- 
ness, for  it  seems  natural  to  all  the  Indians  Math  whom  I  have 
had  any  dealings. 

There  was  one  old  Indian,  who  belonged  to  a  distant  set- 
tlement,  and  only  visited  our  lakes  occasionally  on  hunting 


I)'; 


^'^  ^'^'^EBmss,  A!fD  OUR  imrA:,  miEms     43 

arop  too  much,  he  became  an  unmanageable  wild  bcist 
le  had  a  great  fancy  for  my  husband,  and  never  v  Id'ho 

utn  a  ;         >:  V'™'  ^'"^'"""^  *«  -"-  f-o-  to  u      On  e 

sr -tyt  v^  tt"^  "^^  --  -^  Mood.?;: 

'  b.n?"^'  ™'''"  ^•'P"""'""'  day,  he  made  his  appear'ance  bare 
headed,  a.,  usual,  and  carrying  m  his  hand  a'U  1'^ 

myl^d'°'"lZ"'"  "'•'>•?'■'«'>«  *e  said  bundle  into 

;^.o  a  dish.     But  ^^e^yrpSnf^^ln^'S 

IrC^Tl  ""  "  "  ";'^'  ^''"''  °"'^  --"%  '"kon  from 
me  Dack  oi  the  owner      1  nllo.!  at^ j-  i  ,  "v^iu 

>.«f        o  called  JVloodie,  and  beeped  him  m 

return  Wstor.  his  garment,  and  to' thank  ht  forth: 

The  mischievous  creature  was  highly  diverted  with  ,!,» 
circumstance,  and  laughed  immoderately  ' 

are'ln^'^f''™'"  '"'''  '''''  "  *^™-  ^''''die  and  the  children 
object  to  the  frmt  on  that  score.     "  ft  ought  to  be  clean ;  it 


I. 


I'  I 


44 


nouonma  it  in  the  bush. 


has  been  washed  c.ften  cough.  Owgh !  You  sec,  Jlfoodie  » 
he  continued,  « I  have  no  hat— never  wear  hat— want  no  shade 
to  my  eyes— love  the  sun— see  all  around  me— up  and  down 
—much  better  widout  hat.  Could  not  put  grapes  in  hat— 
blanket-coat  too  large,  crush  fruit,  juice  run  out.  I  had  noting 
but  my  shirt,  so  I  takes  off  shirt,  and  brin-c,  ^.gp^^  ^^^^  ^^^^ 
the  water  on  my  back.  Papouse  nr  ^u  c  v.  Jlrty  shirt ; 
their  lee-tel  bellies  have  no  eyes^ 

In  spite  of  this  eloquent  haran^r.^-,  I  could  not  bring  my- 
self  to  use  the  grapes,  ripe  and  temptmg  as  they  looked,  or 

give  them  to  the  children.     Mr.  W and  his  wife  hanno- 

ing  to  step  in  at  that  moment,  fell  into  such  an  ecs(;.oj  at  tne 
sight  of  the  gi'apes,  that,  as  they  were  perfectly  unacquainted 
with  the  circumstance  of  tlie  sliirt,  I  very  generovsly  gratified 
their  wishes  by  presenting  -liem  with  the  contents  of  the  largo 
dish;  and  they  never  ate  t.  bit  less  sweet  for  the  novel  mode 
in  which  they  were  con  ./ed  to  me ! 

The  Indians,  under  theii  quiet  exterior,  possess  a  deal  of 
humour.     They  have  significant  names  for  every  thing,  and  a 
nickname  for  every  one,  r.nd  some  of  the  latter  are  lau-hably 
appropriate.      A  fat,  pompous,   ostentatious  settler  in   our 
neighbourhood  they  called  Muckalcee,  "the  bull-frog."     An- 
other,  rather  a  fine  young  man,  t-ut  with  a  very  red  face, 
they  named  Segoskee,  « the  rising  sun.''     Mr.  Wood,  who  had 
a  farm  above  ours,  was  a  remarkably  slender  young  man, 
and  to  him  they  gave  the  appellation  of  Metk,  "  thin  stick.'' 
A  woman,  that  occasionally  worked  for  me,  had  a  di^  igree- 
able  squmt ;  she  was  known  m  Indian  I     the  i  .;me  of     achd- 
bo,  "cross-eye."     A  gentleman  with  a  very  larg(i  nose  was 
Choojas,  "big,  or  ugly  nose."     Mv  littlo  /  idle,  who  -as  a 
fair,  lovely  creature,  they  viewed  with  great,  approbatioh,  and 
called  Anoonk,  "a  star;"  while  the  rosy  Katie  was  AW  > 
gook,  "  the  northern  lights."    As  to  me,  I  was  NoP-'^osiqiiu  a 


me  wiLDEBnss,  Am  opr  nmiAir  nmms.     45 

«  hum„,i„g-l,ird  ;"  a  rWiculons  name  i; ,       tall  woman  but  ft 
h*l  reference  ,„  the  delight  .  to„k  i„  ..aintinrS     Uy 

headed  ea<.le»H     ^  '   ^*'«"'"'''  "id  '"the  bald. 

Headed  eagle.      Ho  was  an  especial  favourite  among  them. 

nnn^ne' Yr  T  "'*™  """^  "  P^^^  "^  ^"^  «hcateJ  by^ho 
red  8k,„.  One  aneedo,,,  will  fully  ill„.,trate  this  faet.  A 
young  squaw,  who  was  near  becoming  a  mother  stopped  1 
a^hm,  h.town  settler's  house  to  rest  helelf.  11, '  t-Za  f  of 
the  house,  who  was   Irish,   was   peeling   for  dinner  soml 

fearutu.     iiie  Indian  had  never  seen  a  turnip  before  ind  tl,„ 
appearance  of  the  Hrm,  white,  juicy  ■    ,t  gave'her  leh " 

sCetin  'owf  :f  fv!::trd "'  ''^'"'"™"^''  *  '^'^'' 

the  .r,  >  the  val^of't^^h  elfd^rel^rXt' 

acsirc  an,     .„a,n  ,t  on  the  most  easy  terras      She  told  iZ 
«quaw,  .  ith  son       isda.n,  that  her  m^n  did  no.  ^'l  1 1 ' 
to  give  away  to  •■  .,j„,.  ■  "  but  she  would  sell  hef  ole  T^. 
squaw  offered  her  four  cooper,  «11  th^    u  .    ?         "* 

her      This  th»  «0PPe"-s,  aU  the  change  she  had  about 

ner       i  his  the  woman  refused  with  contomnt      si,^  .i, 
proffered  a  basket;  but  that  was  no,  ^uffiTeM    Iv  " 

satisfy  her  but  the  bowl.    Ue  India:trr;ed .  tuHL 
s.  .on  had  only  increased  her  craving  for  the  turnip  I  a 'en 
fold  degree;  and,  alter  a  short  mental  struggle  JZlX 
animal  propensity  overcame  a.e  wanungs'5  p^dl^  Z 


yi 


•I 


'it 


|i 


"^9. 

% 


m 


40 


MOUGJJLYG   IT  IN  THE  Bmil. 


«quaw  gave  up  the  howl,  and  received  in  return  one  turnip  / 
Ihe  daughter  of  this  woman  told  mo  this  anecdote  of  her 
mother  as  a  very  clever  thing.  What  ideas  some  people 
have  of  moral  justice  !  ^ 

I  have  said  before  that  the  Indian  never  forgets  a  kindness. 
We  had  a  thousand  proofs  of  this,  when,  overtaken  by  misfor- 
tune   and  withering  beneath  the  iron  grasp  of  poverty,  we 
could  scarcely  obtain  bread  for  ourselves  and  our  little  ones- 
then  It  was  that  the  truth  of  the  Easter,  proverb  was  brought 
home  to  our  hearts,  and  the  goodness  of  God  fully  manifesLd 
towards  us,  "Cast  thy  bread  u^  on  the  waters,  and  thou  nhalt 
find  It  after  many  days."   During  better  times  we  had  treated 
these  poor  savages  with  ki,  hiess  and  liberality,  and  when 
dearer  friends  looked  coldly  upon  us  they  never  forsook  us 
l^or  many  a  good  meal  I  have  been  indebted  to  them,  when  I 
had  nothmg  to  give  in  return,  when  the  pantry  was  empty, 
and     the  hearth-stone  growing  cold,"  as  they  term  the  want 
of  provisions  to  cook  at  it.      And  their  delicacy  in  conferrmg 
these  favours  was  not  the  least  admirable  part  of  their  con- 
duct.    John  Nogan,  who  was  much  attached  to  us,  would 
bring  a  fine  bunch  of  ducks,  and  drop  them  at  my  feet  "for 
the  papouse,"  or  leave  a  large  muskinonge  on  the  sill  of  the 
door,  or  place  a  quarter  of  venison  just  within  it,  and  slip 
away  without  saying  a  word,  thinking  that  receiving  a  present 
from  a  poor  Indian  might  hurt  our  feelings,  and  he  would 
spare  us  the  mortification  of  returning  thanks. 

When  an  Indian  loses  one  of  his  children,'  he  must  keep  a 
strict  fast  for  three  days,  abstaining  from  food  of  any  kind 
A  hunter  of  the  name  of  Young,  told  me  a  curious  story  of 
their  rigid  observance  of  this  strange  rite 

"  ITiey  had  a  chief,"  he  said,  "a  few  years  ago,  whom  they 
called    Handsome  Jack'-whether  in  derision,  I  cannot  tell 
for  he  was  one  of  the  ugliest  Indians  I  ever  saw.    The  scarlet 


4 


THE  waDsnxMs.s,  A.vi,  or„  u-,u.y  ^uu^xp..     47 
what  had  happened,  but  I  opened  „;;<,  fo''"' '""" 

:S'  Tw?;"t  '"'^' """ '-  ^-;  a»<^^  ^^^^^^^^^^ 

vemson.     He  looked  at  me  reproachfully. 

laid  in  t :!':::  r" "'  '"■"  ""^  '^^^  "''=""  *-  p^p--  '^ 

"I  then  knew  the  eause  of  his  depression,  and  left  him  " 

day.  without  Itin";,^  T2  2"""'^  '''"'  ""'™ 
Indian.  On  the  evening  of  th  I^rth  he"'  '""  '"  "" 
^venous  hunger,  that  ht  Je^ilte  tl;  ^..^Udf 
frog,  and  devoured  it  aliv**  TT«  ,•  •  i  ,  .  ^""fe"'^  ^  ""i^- 
one  of  his  peop,,  sulp^X  ^  '=:  SrA!: 

:r=::rite  ,^:Lr!;r::;i„":V"^'  -— 

can,p  was  in  an  uproar     ^e  ll^ie?  fl  w       """"'''  ""^ 
Youno's  house      wi      .u    ,,  "^  ""■  protection  to 

loung  ,  house.     When  the  hunter  demanded  the  cause  of  hi, 
alarm,  ho  gave  for  answer  "  Tt,  ,  "'^ 

house     T„       -7.1  '         "°  ""  P'^^'^y  «<■  flies  at  my 

house.     To  avo.d  their  stings  I  came  to  you  " 

It  required  all  the  eloquence  of  Mr.  Young,  who  enioyed 

rto^h^-r-Sf."--^ "'"™'  ^  — -''» '»2:^ 

They  are  very  skilful  >  their  treatment  of  wounds   and 

o"f2iXranJti;st::?;:i\--- --- 

pouUices  from  the  hark  ofTe^  ^^irZ;:;!^ 

poreupne  quills.    The  mner  bark  of  the  swamp-alder,  simnlv 
boded  m  water,  m,kes  a  beautiful  rod.    From^e  ^Z't 


wmi\ 


ir  : 


T 


'IS' 


48 


BOUOHINa  IT  m  THE  BUSJT. 


black  briony  they  obtain  a  fine  salve  for  sores,  and  extract  a 
rich  yellow  dye.  The  inner  bark  of  the  root  of  the  sumach, 
roasted,  and  reduced  to  powder,  is  a  good  remedy  for  the 
ague  ;  a  tea-npoonful  given  between  the  hot  and  cold  fit.  Tney 
scrape  the  fine  wJiite  powder  from  the  large  fungus  that  grows 
upon  the  bark  of  the  pine  into  whiskey,  and  take  it  for  violent 
pains  in  the  stomach.  The  taste  of  this  powder  strongly  re- 
minded me  of  quinine. 

1  have  read  much  of  the  excellence  of  Indian  cookery,  but 
I  never  could  bring  myself  to  taste  any  thing  prepared  in  their 
dirty  wigwams.  1  remember  being  highly  amused  in  watch- 
ing the  preparation  of  a  mess,  which  might  have  been  called 
the  Indian  hotch-potch.  It  consisted  of  a  strange  mixture  of 
fish,  flesh,  and  flowl,  all  boiled  together  in  the  same  vessel. 
Ducks,  partridges,  muskinonge,  venison,  and  muskrats,  formed 
a  part  of  this  delectable  compound.  These  were  literally 
smothered  in  onions,  potatoes,  and  turnips,  which  they  had 
procured  from  me.  They  very  hospitably  ofl'ered  me  a  dish- 
ful  of  the  odious  mixture,  which  the  odour  of  the  muskrats 
rendered  every  thing  but  savoury;  but  I  declmed,  simply  star 
ting  that  I  was  not  hungry.  My  little  boy  tasted  it,  but  quickly 
left  the  camp  to  conceal  the  effect  it  produced  upon  him. 

Their  method  of  broiling  fish,  however,  is  excellent.  They 
take  a  fish,  just  fresh  out  of  the  water,  cut  out  the  entrails, 
and,  without  removing  the  scales,  wash  it  clean,  dry  it  in  a 
cloth,  or  in  grease,  and  cover  it  all  over  with  clear  hot  ashes. 
When  th9  flesh  will  part  from  the,  bone,  they  draw  it  out  of 
the  ashes,  strip  off  the  skm,  and  it  is  fit  for  the  table  of  tlie 
most  fastidious  epicure. 

The  deplorable  want  of  chastity  that  exists  among  the 
Indian  women  of  this  tribe  seems  to  have  been  more  the 
result  of  their  intercourse  with  the  settlers  in  the  country 
than  from  any  previous  disposition  to  this  vice.    The  jealousy 


of  their  husbands  has  often  bcon  e-seroi<,r^  ;„  ,  ,     •,., 

^■•ear  e™  ^^^  ^^P-  ^^'^od  adds  ,...,^1  .He  ph,. 

caste  is  gonelliy  TX^vW  ""  '='"'™""'^-    ^^  l^"'- 

qualities  of  both  paS  II      '  '°^'"'  •'"^'^^'"^  ""^  ^o"' 
■nany  of  these  LE  «  "^™'  '^^^^<'-     '^'^  have 

the  Waclcest  dye  "^'"  "  "'^  P-'»"«-y,  for  crimes  of 

land^orwil'  f;  b"'""  *"  """"""S  l"'^  g»»e,  either  by 

than  lluTeve  "hopTH  "f  '"^T"' ^'^  "^  "^"^  -"- 
my  nen  and  I  wil.r     *.  "",     "'"*  ""^  "'"'fation  from 

wnicn  IS  told  of  a  gentleman  in  this  neighbourhood 
The  early  loss  ofhis  hair  obliaed  Mr  ""™ooa. 

substitute  of  a  wi,,     Th-  , '°  P™""*  *» 

courts.    The  case  M-aa  decided  in  favour  of  Mr  k-  u 

Tar?' tiTh  """  ^''™^^'  *■""  ^""'"'-^  him^f -^iTlnS 
party,  that  he  sprang  upon  him  wifh  o  p.,,,-  i,         "J'"**^ 

i..  hand,  with  the  int!ntfon  oX^l/wh  '  ""T^t" 
twisted  his  hand  in  the  .ocks  ih:rfdor:ef,i''e  Jr^^^m!; 
camo  oj  m  his  hand,  •<  Oweh '  owah  f"  ov«7„-      j  ..      «,        ^ 

^va,o  «,„,, ,  ,;„„  A  a:::tshi:;rmihrcottif' 

he  had  been  bitten  by  a  rattlesnakA    \v       71 

^.Wcd  b    peals  of  iLghte'trt  e'^htr  ""^ 

coo,^^.c.ed  up  hi.  .-..d  dryly  .^:^'Z\:^ 

VOL.  II.  ft 


H 


'« 


50 


BOUamNQ  IT  IN  TEE  BUSE. 


fi 


-g ''?;'"       ik 


CHAPTER   III. 


BURNING    THE    FALLOW. 


TT  is  not  my  intention  to  give  a  regular  history  of  our  resi 
-L  dence  in  the  bush,  but  merely  to  present  to  my  readers 
such  events  as  may  serve  to  illustrate  a  life  in  the  woods. 

The  winter  and  spring  of  1834  had  passed  away.  The 
latter  was  uncommonly  cold  and  backward  ;  so  much  so 
that  we  had  a  very  heavy  fall  of  snow  upon  the  14th  and 
15th  of  May,  and  several  gentlemen  drove  down  to  Cobourg 
in  a  sleigh,  the  snow  lying  upon  the  ground  to  the  depth  of 
several  inches. 

A  late,  cold  spring  in  Canada  is  generally  succeeded  by  a 
burning,  hot  summer  ;  and  the  summer  of  '34  was  the  hottest 
I  ever  remember.  No  rain  fell  upon  the  earth  for  many 
weeks,  till  nature  drooped  and  withered  beneath  one  bright 
blaze  of  sunlight ;  and  the  ague  and  fever  in  the  woods,  and 
the  cholera  in  the  large  towns  and  cities,  spread  death  and 
sickness  through  the  country. 

Moodie  had  made  during  the  winter  a  large  clearing  of 
twenty  acres  around  the  house.  The  progress  of  the  workmen 
had  been  watched  by  me  with  the  keenest  interest.  Every 
tree  that  reached  the  ground  opened  a  wider  gap  in  the  dark 
wood,  giving  us  a  broader  ray  of  light  and  a  clearer  glimpse 
of  the  blue  sky.  But  when  the  dark  cedar  swamp  fronting 
the  house  fell  beneath  the  strokes  of  the  axe,  and  we  got  a  first 
view  of  the  lake,  my  joy  was  complete ;  a  new  and  beautiful 


I'  !'i 


V 


J'O-ItmKO  THE  FALLOW. 
Object  was  now  constantly  IieforA  «,„     v  ,. 
g.-eatost  pleasure.     Bv  niit  .„Td!  v'  t    *''"™  ""^  "^^ 

^•ater  is  always  the  ^oJ^^Z^^  T  ■"  ^"'™' 
no  view  can  be  truly  arand  i„  Z    l!^         '""Escape,  and 

Child,  it  always  had'tiH  j;:^':  :;r""'-  '^^•"^  ^ 

from  ,he  great  ocean  rolling  in'"™';'  tTTJ'  r"'' 
rill,  hidden  by  the  flowers  and  rn  T     ,'  ""'"^  '^'■'■''' 

the  solitude  of  my  "olTi,       ™''''''^'''™e  "'  '"'"''s.     Half 

veiled  its  br^uX! T:   heZeT    "'  "'■^"  ""^  '^''^  ""' 

-on  and  stars  :r^^:X'Z:7Z:.::\lr  ^  '"" 

"ly  ears.     It  was  Ion.  verv  on^  f  /  ""'''  '^""^^'"^  ^ 

tw:t:tadt^;r;u::s:nr  *^^°°-'" ""  ~ 
-e  ..eat  oe  ^r^j^  TdrrdTr^f:;: 

dwelling,  butah  ;  ,rZ:r\  ,"  ''"'  ""™*^-^'  ™— 
trees,  afd  lell  t.r'l^^  ,?  ^^  ^"^  P™'*™""'  •'"I  '"-^  A™ 
rays  of  he  sun     Tl         7'^"'  """''^  '=^P°^^''  '»  "'^  ""ree 

to  wait  a  little  iLer  n„?i!  7         , ,'         ^^  '""  "S''''  him 

-ry  the  fire  wXu^h  the  b^h'  '''  "  ""'  "^^^  *"> 

Bu.iue«.  called  him  suddenly  to'  Tot^nto,  but  ho  left  . 


.1' 


I'J  * 


l"llll 


I'.'  I 


"l¥ 


■pi 


53 


Rouanma  it  m  the  bush. 


strict  charge  with  old  Thomas  and  his  sons,  who  were  engaged 
in  the  job,  by  no  means  to  attempt  to  burn  It  off  till  he  re- 
turned, as  he  wished  to  be  upon  the  premises  himself,  in  case 
of  any  danger.  lie  had  previously  burnt  all  the  heaps  im- 
mediately about  the  doors.  While  he  was  absent,  old  Thomas 
and  his  second  son  fell  sick  with  the  ague,  and  went  home  to 
their  own  township,  leaving  John,  a  surly,  obstinate  young 
man,  in  charge  of  the  shanty,  where  they  slept,  and  kept  their 
tools  and  provisions.  Monaghan  I  had  sent  to  fetch  up  my 
three  cows,  as  the  children  were  languishing  for  milk,  and 
Mary  and  I  remained  alone  in  the  house  with  the  little  ones. 
The  day  was  sultry,  and  towards  noon  a  strong  wind  sprang 
up  that  roared  in  the  pine  tops  like  the  dashing  of  distant  bil- 
lows, but  without  in  the  least  degree  abating  the  heat.  The 
children  were  lying  listlessly  upon  the  floor  for  coolness,  and 
the  girl  and  I  were  fmishing  sun-bonnets,  when  Mary  suddenly 
exclaimed,  "  Bless  us,  mistress,  what  a  smoke !"  I  ran  im- 
mediately to  the  door,  but  was  not  able  to  distinguish  ten  yards 
before  me.  The  swamp  immediately  below  us  was  on  fire, 
and  the  heavy  wind  was  driving  a  dense  black  cloud  of 
smoke  directly  towards  us. 

"  What  can  tliis  mean  ]"  I  cried,  "  Who  can  have  set  fire 
to  the  fallow  r' 

As  I  ceased  speaking,  John  Thomas  stood  pale  aijd  trera^ 
bling  before  me.     "  John,  what  is  the  meanmg  of  this  fire  1" 

"  Oh,  ma'am,  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me ;  it  was  I  set  fire 
to  it,  and  I  would  give  all  I  have  in  the  world  if  I  had  not 
done  it." 

"What  is  the  danger?" 

"  Oh,  Fm  terribly  afeard  that  we  shall  all  be  burnt  up," 
said  the  fellow,  beginning  to  wliimper. 

"  Why  did  you  run  such  a  risk,  and  your  master  from 
nome,  and  no  one  on  the  place  to  render  the  least  assistance  1" 


BUENING  THE  FALLOW. 


68 


« I  did  it  for  the  best,"  blubbered  the  lad.     «  What  shaU 
we  do  ?" 

"Why,  we  must  get  out  of  it  as  fast  as  we  can,  and  leave 
the  house  to  its  fate." 

« We  can't  get  out,"  said  the  man,  in  a  low,  hollow  tone, 
which  seemed  the  concentration  of  fear;  "I  would  have  got 

Tnd  see'"  ^  ^  '''"^'^'  ^"^  ''"'^  '^'^  ^"^  ^^''  ^^''^  ^^^^'  ^^''^^^^ 
r  had  not  felt  the  least  alarm  up  to  this  minute ;  I  had 
never  seen  a  fallow  burnt,  but  I  had  heard  of  it  as  a  thing  of 
such  common  occurrence  that  I  had  never  connected  wifh  it 
any  idea  of  danger.     Judge  then,  my  surprise,  my  horror 
when,  on  gomg  to  the  back  door,  T  saw  that  the  fellov.   ti 
niake  sure  of  his  work,  had  fired  the  field  in  fifty  different 
places.     Behind,  before,  on  every  side,  we  were  surrounded 
by  a  wall  of  fire,  burning  furiously  within  a  hundred  yards 
of  us,  and  cutting  off  all  possibility  of  retreat;  for  could  we 
have  found  an  opening  through  the  burning  heaps,  we  could 
not  have  seen  our  way  through  the  dense  canopy  of  smoke; 
and    buried  as  we  were  in  the  heart  of  the  forest,  no  one 
could  discover  our  situation  till  we  were  beyond  the  reach  of 
help.     I  closed  the  door,  and  went  back  to  the  parlour.    Fear 
was  knocking  loudly  at  my  heart,  for  our  utter  helplessness 
annihilated  all  hope  of  being  able  tx>  effect  our  escape-I  felt 
stupefied.     The  girl  sat  upon  the  floor  by  the  children,  who 
unconscious  of  the  peril  that  hung  over  them, 'had  both  fallen 
asleep      She  was  silently  weeping ;  while  the  fool  who  had 
Ci«»ed  the  mischief  was  crying  aloud. 

A  strange  calm  succeeded  my  first  alarm ;  tears  and 
lamentations  were  useless;  a  horrible  death  was  imr ending 
over  us,  and  yet  I  could  not  believe  that  we  were  to  die  I 
sat  down  upon  tl.e  step  of  the  door,  and  watched,  the  awfU 
scene  m  silence.    The  fire  w:.s  r.ging  in  the  cedar  swamp,  im- 


i  •' 


54 


Rojjaiima  it  in  the  bush. 


mediately  below  the  ridge  on  which  the  house  stood,  and  it 
presented  a  spectacle  truly  appalling.     From  out  the  dense 
folds  of  a  canopy  of  black  smoke,  the  blackest  I  ever  saw, 
leaped  up  continually  red  forks  of  lurid  flame  as  high  as  the 
tree  tops,  igniting  the  branches  of  a  group  of  tall  pines  that 
had  beei)  left  standing  for  sun-logs.     A  deep  gloom  blotted 
out  the  heavens  from  our  sight.     The  air  was  filled  with  fiery 
particles,  which  floated  even  to  the  door-step— while  the  crack- 
ling  and  roaring  of  the  flames  might  have  been  heard  at  a 
great  distance.     Could  we  have  reached  the  lake  shore,  where 
several  canoes  were  moored  at  the  landing,  by  launching  out 
into  the  water  we  should  have  been  in  perfect  safety ;  but,  to 
attain  this  object,  it  was  necessary  to  pass  through  this  mimic 
hell ;  and  not  a  bird  could  have  flown  over  it  with  unscorched 
wings.    There  was  no  hope  in  that  quarter,  for,  could  we  have 
escaped  the  flames,  we  should  have  been  blinded  and  choked 
by  the  thick,  black,  resinous  smoke.     The  fierce  wind  drove 
the  flames  at  the  sides  and  back  of  the  house  up  the  clearing ; 
and  our  passage  to  the  road,  or  to  the  forest,  on  the  right  and 
left,  was  entirely  obstructed  by  a  sea  of  flames.     Our  only 
ark  of  safety  was  the  house,  so  long  as  it  remained  untouched 
by  the  consuming  element.     I  turned  to  young  Thomas,  and 
asked  him,  how  long  he  thought  that  would  be. 

"  When  the  fire  clears  this  little  ridge  in  front,  ma'am. 
The  Lord  have  mercy  upon  us,  then,  or  we  must  all  go !" 

"  Cannot  you,  John,  try  and  make  your  escape,  and  see 
what  can  be  done  for  us  and  the  poor  children '?" 

My  eye  fell  r<pon  the  sleeping  angels,  locked  peacefiilly  iu 
each  other's  arms,  and  my  tears  flowed  for  the  first  time. 
Mary,  the  servant-girl,  looked  piteously  up  in  my  face.  The 
good,  faithful  creature  had  not  uttered  one  word  of  complamt, 
but  now  she  faltered  forth, 

"  The  dear,  precious  lambs  !— Oh  !  such  a  death !" 


I 


r 

'.   ) 


HD-JiNTiYG  THE  FALLOW. 


55 


I  threw  myself  down  upon  the  floor  beside  them  and 
pressed  them  alternately  to  my  heart,  while  inwardly  I 
thanked  God  that  they  were  asleep,  unconscious  of  danger 
and  unable  by  their  childish  cries  to  distract  our  attention 
from  adopting  any  plan  which  might  offer  to  effect  their 
escape. 

The  heat  soon  became  suffocating.  We  were  parched  with 
thirst,  and  there  was  not  a  drop  of  water  in  the  house,  and 
none  to  be  procured  nearer  than  the  lake.  I  turned  once 
more  to  the  door,  hoping  that  a  passage  might  have  been 
burnt  through  to  the  water.  I  saw  nothing  but  a  dense  cloud 
of  fire  and  smoke-could  hear  nothing  but  the  crackling  and 
roaring  of  flames,  which  were  gaining  so  fast  upon  us  that  I 
felt  their  scorching  breath  in  my  face. 

"  Ah,"  thought  I— and  it  was  a  most  bitter  thought—"  what 
will  my  beloved  husband  say  when  he  returns  and  finds  that 
poor  Susy  and  his  dear  girls  have  perished  in  this  miserable 
manner  1     But  God  can  save  us  yet." 

The  thought  had  scarcely  found  a  voice  in  my  heart  before 
the  wind  rose  to  a  hurricane,  scattering  the  flames  on  all  sides 
mto  a  tempest  of  burning  billows.      I  buried  my  head  m 
my  apron,  for  I  thought  that  our  time  was  come,  and  that 
all  was  lost,  when  a   most  terrific  crash  of  thunder  burst 
over  our  heads,  and,  like  the  breaking  of  a  water-spout,  doMH 
came  the  rushing  torrent  of  rain  which  had  been  penc  up  for 
so  many  weeks.      In  a  few  minutes  the  chip-yard  was  all 
afloat,  and  the  fire  effectually  checked.     The  storm  which,  un- 
noticed by  us,  had  been  gathering  all  day,  and  which  was'  the 
only  one  of  any  note  we  had  that  summer,  continued  to  rage 
all  night,  and  before  morning  had  quite  subdued  the  cruel 
enemy,  whose  approach  we  had  viewed  v/ith  such  dread. 

The  imminent  danger  in  which  we  had  been  placed  struck 
me  more  forcibly  after  it  was  past  than  at  the  time,  and  both 


'  1.5 1 


I  ;l 


4 


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ii 

■ 

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^^^^1 

m 


;"«»*il»**»*.-»i 


i! 


ifi! 


I 


56 


ROUQHlNa  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


the  girl  ana  myself  sank  upon  our  knees,  and  lifted  up  out 
hearts  in  humble  thanksgiving  to  that  God  mIio  had  saved  us 
by  an  act  of  His  Providence  from  an  awful  and  jmdden  death. 
When  all  hope  from  human  assistance  was  lost,  Ilis  hand  was 
mercifully  stretched  forth,  making  His  strength  more  perfectly 
manifested  in  our  weakness : — 

"  He  is  their  stay  when  earthly  help  is  lost, 
The  light  and  anchor  of  the  tempest-toss'd." 

There  was  one  person,  unknown  to  us,  who  had  watched 
the  progress  of  that  rash  blaze,  and  had  even  brought  his 
canoe  to  the  landing,  in  the  hope  of  getting  us  off.  This  was  an 
Irish  pensioner  named  Dunn,  who  had  cleared  a  few  acres  on 
his  government  grant,  and  had  built  a  shanty  on  the  opposite 
shore  of  the  lake. 

«  Faith,  madam!  an'  I  thought  the  captain  was  stark,  sta^ 
ring  mad  to  fire  his  fallow  on  such  a  windy  day,  and  that  blow- 
ing right  from  the  lake  to  the  house.  When  Old  Wittals 
came  in  and  towld  us  that  the  masther  was  not  to  the  fore^ 
but  only  one  lad,  an'  the  wife  an'  the  chilther  at  home,-J 
thinks  I,  there's  no  time  to  be  lost,  or  the  crathurs  will  be 
burnt  up  intirely.  We  started  instanther,  but,  by  Jove  !  we 
were  too  late.  The  swamp  was  all  in  a  blaze  when  we  got  to 
the  landing,  and  you  might  as  weU  have  tried  to  get  to  heaven 
by  passing  through  the  other  place." 

This  was  tlie  eloquent  harangue  with  which  the  honest 
creature  informed  me  the  next  morning  of  the  efforts  he  had 
made  to  save  us,  and  the  interest  he  had  felt  in  our  critical 
situation.  I  felt  comforted  for  my  past  anxiety,  by  knowing 
that  one  human  being,  however  humble,  had  sympathized  in 
our  probable  fate ;  while  the  providential  manner  in  which 
we  had  been  rescued  wUl  ever  remain  a  theme  of  wonder  and 
gratitude. 


.j^ 


^^RNING  THE  FALLOW.  ^ 

The  next  evening  brought  the  return  of  my  husband  uh. 
listened  to  the  talo  of  n,,,.  «.^  •  ,  ^  nusoand,  who 

VOL.  II.  3* 


^: 


Hlif 


■I 


58 


liOUOIIWG  IT  IN  THE  BVSE. 


CHAPTER    lY. 


OUR   LOGGING-BEE. 


M' 


There  was  a  man  in  our  town, 
In  our  town,  iu  our  town- 
There  was  a  niun  in  our  town, 
Ho  made  a  loggins{-bee ; 

And  he  bought  lota  of  whiskey, 

To  make  the  loggers  frisky 

To  make  the  loggers  frisky 
At  his  logging-bee. 

The  Devil  sat  on  a  log  heap, 
A  log  heap,  a  log  heap— 
A  red-hot  burning  log  heap— 
A-grinning  at  the  bee ; 

And  there  was  lots  of  swearing, 
Of  boasting  and  of  daring, 
Of  fighting  and  of  i .  :  hig, 
At  that  loggi.t ,;'(,' 

«'    'i  .  D.  M. 

A  LOGGING-BEE  followed  the  buniing  of  the  fallow,  as  a 
-^  matter  of  course.  In  the  bush,  where  hands  are  few,  and 
labour  commands  an  enormous  rate  of  wages,  these  gather- 
ings  are  considered  indispensable,  and  much  has  been  written 
in  their  praise ;  but,  to  me,  they  present  the  most  disgusting 
picture  of  a  bush  life.  They  are  noisy,  riotous,  drunken  meet- 
ings,  often  terminating  in  violent  quarrels,  sometimes  even  in 
bloodshed.  Accidents  of  the  most  serious  nature  often  occur, 
and  very  little  work  is  done,  when  we  consider  the  number 
of  hands  employed,  and  the  great  consumption  of  food  and 


i    > 


ovn  ivacma-BEE.  ■• 

liquor     I  am  certain,  i„  „„  ,„,e,  had  we  hired  with  tl„  money 
.upended  m  providing  for  ,he  bee,  two  or  three  i»du       .,„ 
hard-worl<,„g  „e„,  wo  should  have  p,t  through  twi.s         .uch 
work,  and  have  had  i,  done  weli, and  i.ave  been  the g„  .e^ia 

People  in  the  woods  have  a  craze  for  giving  and  goine  to 

ru^to":  rL""  *°  """"  t"  '^  '""^''  kernel  as  a%aL^ 
funs  to  a  race.courseor  a  fair;  picntv  of  strong  drinlc  and  ex 

cucn„.„t  making  the  chief  attraction  -of  the  beo     ,„  ra"  i„g  t 
house  or  ban    a  bee  may  be  looked  upon  a,  a  neeessa"   fi, 
but  the«.  gathenngs  are  generally  conducted  in  a  -.ore  order Ir 
manner  than  those  for  logging.     Fewer  hands  "  ir/d 

and  they  are  generally  under  the  control  of  the  ,  .en^e  who 
puts  up  te  frame,  and  if  they  get  drunk  during  the  111" 
they  are  hable  to  meet  with  very  serious  accidents.  * 

Ihirty-two  men,  gentle  and  simple,  were  invited  to  our 
bee,  and  the  ma,d  and  [  were  engaged  for  two  days  preceding 
the  important  one,  in  baking  and  cooking  for  the  enterttL 
ment  of  our  guests.     When  I  looked  at  tl  quan  it^  o   ^ 
we  had  prepared,  I  thought  that  it  never  could  be  [il-earn 

"  gee  "  aid  "  K  t"T.  '"^^"^^  ''^8""  '°  "■»«  '"'  ""^  «•« 
Thl  .      .""^  '^'  ""^  '■'^'°'""^'"^  °"   "very  side 

There  was  my  brother  S ,  with  his  frank  English  face  » 

host  m  himself;  Lieutenant  _  i„  his  blouse, 'wide  wW,^ 
trowsers,  and  red  sash,  his  broad  straw  hat  sh  ding  a  dart 
jnanly  face  that  would  have  been  a  splendid  property  for  a 
bandit  chief;  the  four  gay,  reckless,  idle  sons  of  J_  Lou! 
at  any  spree,  but  incapable  of  the  least  mental  or  phy'sical  ex 

Object  of  hfe.    These  young  men  rendered  very  little  assiV 


ii'5l 


m 


If 


i  \ 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


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1.25 


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1^ 


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12 

I  4.0 


1.4 


2.5 
2.2 

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^'     -APPLIED  IIU^GE 


inc 


16f3   East   Main   Street 

.<ochester,   New  York         14609       USA 

(716)    482  -  0300  -  Phone 

(716)    288  -  5989  -  Fax 


60 


BOUGHINO  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


There  were  the  two  R s,  who  came  to  work  and  to 

make  others  work ;  my  good  brother-in-law.  who  had  volun- 
teered to  be  the  Grog  Bos,  and  a  host  of  other  settlers,  among 
whom  I  recognized  Moodio's  old  acquaintance,  Dan  Simpson, 
with  his  lank  red  hair  and  long  freckled  face ;  the  Youngs,  the 
hunters,  with  their  round,  black,  curly  heads  and  ricn  Irish 

brogue  ;  poor  C ,  with  his  long,  spare,  consumptive  figure, 

and  thin,  sickly  face.  Poor  fellow,  he  has  long  since  been 
gathered  to  his  rest ! 

There  was  the  ruffian  qu'atter  P ,  from  Clear  Lake,— 

the  dread  of  all  honest  men ;  the  brutal  M ,  who  treated 

oxen  as  if  they  had  been  logs,  by  beating  them  with  hand- 
spikes;  and  there  was  Old  Wittals,  vvith  his  low  fore- 
head and  long  nose,  a  living  witness  of  the  truth  of  phrenology, 
if  his  large  organ  of  acquisitiveness  and  his  want  of  conscien- 
tiousness  could  be  taken  in  evidence.  Yet  in  spite  of  his  dere- 
lictions  from  honesty,  he  was  a  hard-working,  good-natured 
man,  who,  if  he  cheated  you  in  a  bargain,  or  took  away  some 
useful  article  in  mistake  from  your  homestead,  never  wronged 
his  employer  in  his  day's  work. 

He  was  a  curious  sample  of  cunning  and  simplicity— quite 
a  character  in  his  way— and  the  largest  eater  I  ever  chanced 
to  kiiow.  From  this  ravenous  propensity,  for  he  eat  his  food 
like  a  famished  wolf,  he  had  obtamed  the  singular  name  of 
"Wittals."  During  the  first  year  of  his  settlement  in  the 
bush,  with  a  very  large  family  to  provide  for,  he  had  been 
often  in  want  of  food.  One  day  he  came  to  my  brother,  mth 
a  very  long  face. 

"  Tore  God !  Mr.  S ,  I'm  no  beggar,  but  I'd  be  obliged 

to  you  for  a  loaf  of  bread.  I  declare  to  you  on  my  honour 
that  I  have  not  had  a  bit  of  wittals  to  dewour  for  two  whole 
days." 

He  came  to  the  right  person  with  his  petition.    Mr.  S-^ 


■:.|| 


OUR  TOGOINO-BEE. 


61 


I 


with  a  liberal  hand  relieved  his  wants,  but  he  entailed  upon 
h,m  the  name  of  "Old  Wittals,"  as  pa^t  payment.  His 
daughter,  who  was  a  very  pretty  girl,  had  stolen  a  march  upon 
him  into  the  wood,  with  a  lad  whom  he  by  no  means  regarded 
with  a  favourable  eye.  When  she  returned,  the  old  man  eon- 
fronted  her  and  her  lover  with  this  thro.t.  whieh  I  suppose 
he  considered  "  the  most  awful"  punisL..cnt  that  he  could 
devise. 

"  March  into  the  house.  Madam  'Ria  (Maria) ;  and  if  e  ^er 
I  catch  you  With  that  scamp  again,  I'll  tie  you  up  to  a  stump 
all  day,  and  give  you  no  wittals." 

niiiX  T^^^l  ^"""''^  ^^  overhearing  a  dialogue  between 
Old  Wittals  and  one  of  his  your.gest  sons,  a  sharp,  Yankeefied, 
lookmg  boy,  who  had  lost  one  of  his  eyes,  but  the  remaining 
orb  looked  as  if  it  could  see  all  ways  at  once, 
r    ''^"^^'^^^l' how  came  you  to  tell  that  tarnation  tearing 

he  to  Mr.  S yesterday?     Didn't  you  expect  that  you'I 

catch  a  good  wallopping  for  the  like  of  that?     Lying  may  be 
excusable  in  a  man,  but  'tis  a  terrible  bad  habit  in  a  boy." 

"  Lor',  father,  that  woni't  a  lie.     I  told  Mr   S '  our 

cow  worn't  in  his  peas.     Nor  more  she  wor :  she  was  ii'i  his 
wheat." 

"  But  she  was  in  the  peas  all  night,  boy." 

"  That  wor  nothing  to  me ;  she  worn't  in  just  then.     Sure 
1  won  t  get  a  licking  for  that  ?" 

«  No,  no,  you  are  a  good  boy ;  but  mind  what  I  tell  you 
and  don  t  bring  me  into  a  scrape  with  any  of  your  real  lies  '' 

Prevarication,  the  worst  of  falsehoods,  was  a  virtue  in  his 
eyes.     So  much  for  the  old  man's  morality. 

Monaghan  was  in  his  glory,  prepared  to  work  or  fight 
whichever  should  come  uppermost;  and  there  was  old 
Ihomas  and  his  sons,  the  contractors  for  the  clearing  to 
expedite  whoso  movements  the  bee  was  called.    Old  Thomas 


-'jpiiiifenyt.jiiiim..:: 


iHl 


.h-i 


62 


RouaniNa  it  in  the  bush. 


was  a  very  ambitious  man  iii  his  way.  Though  he  did  not 
know  A  from  B,  he  took  it  into  his  head  that  he  had  received 
a  call  from  Heaven  to  convert  the  heathen  in  the  wilderness ; 
and  every  Sunday  he  held  a  meeting  in  our  jogger's  shanty' 
for  the  purpose  of  awakening  sinners,  and  bringing  over 
^'  Injun  pagans"  to  the  true  faith.  His  method  of  accomplish- 
ing this  object  was  very  ingenious.  He  got  his  wife,  Peggy 
—or  "  my  Paggy,"  as  he  called  her— to  read  aloud  for  him  a 
text  from  the  Bible,  until  he  knew  it  by  .heart;  and  he  had, 
as  he  said  truly,  "  a  good  remembrancer,"  and  never  heard  a 
striking  sermon  but  he  retained  the  most  important  passages, 
and  retailed  them  secondhand  to  his  bush  audience. 

1  must  say  that  I  was  not  a  little  surprised  at  the  old  man's 
eloquence  when  I  went  one  Sunday  over  to  the  shanty  to  hear 
him  preach.    Several  wild  young  fellows  had  come  on  purpose 
to  make  fun  of  him ;  but  his  discourse,  which  was  upon  the 
text,  "  We  shall  all  meet  before  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ," 
was  .rather  too  serious  a  subject  to  turn  into  a  jest,  with  even 
old  Thomas  for  the  preacher.     All  went  on  very  well  until 
the  old  man  gave  out  a  hymn,  and  led  off  in  such  a  loud,  dis- 
cordant voice,  that  my  little  Katie,  who  was  standing  between 
her  father's  knees,  looked  suddenly  up,  and  said,  "  Mamma 
what  a  noise  old  Thomas  makes !"     This  remark  led  to  a 
much  greater  noise,  and  the  young  men,  unable  to  restrain 
their  long-suppressed  laughter,  ran   tumultuously  fror        e 
shanty.    I  could  have  whipped  the  little  elf;  but  small  t..  ..e 
could  be  attached  to  a  child  of  two  years  old,  who  had  nev  r 
heard  a  preacher,  especially  such  a  preacher  as  the  old  back- 
woodsman,  in  her  life.     Poor  man !  he  was  perfectly  uncon- 
scious  of  the  cause  of  the  disturbance,  and  remarked  to  us, 
after  the  service  was  over,  ' 

"  Well,  ma'am,  did  not  we  get  on  famously  ?    Now,  worn't 
that  a  bootiful  discourse  V 


1 


^■;r. ;, 


r 


i 


OUR  LOGGING-BEE. 


63 


"  It  was,  indeed  ;  much  better  than  I  expected." 

.    "  Yis,  yes  ;  I  knew  it  would  please  you.      It  had  quite  an 

effect  on  those  wild  fellows.     A  few  more  such  sermons  will 

teach  them  good  behaviour.     Ah  !  the  bush  is  a  bad  place  for 

young  men.     The  farther  in  the  bush,  say  I,  the  farther  from 

(^od,  and  the  nearer  to  hell.   I  told  that  wicked  Captain  I 

of  Dummer  so  the  other  Sunday ;  '  an','  says  he, '  if  vou  don't 
hold  your  confounded  jaw,  you  old  fool,  I'll  kick  you  there.' 
Now,  ma'am,  now,  sir,  was  not  that  bad  manners  in  a  gentle- 
man,  to  use  such  appropriate  epitaphs  to  a  humble  servanc  of 
God,  like  I  ?" 

And  thus  the  old  man  ran  on  for  an  hour,  dilating  upon 
his  o\Mi  merits  and  the  sins  of  his  neighbours. 

There  was  John  R ,  from  Smith-town,  the  most  noto- 

nous  swearer  in  the  district ;  a  man  who  esteemed  himself 
clever,  nor  did  he  want  for  natural  talent,  but  he  had  con- 
verted  his  mouth  into  such  a  sink  of  iniquity  that  it  corrupted 
the  whole  man,  and  all  the  weak  and  thoughtless  of  his  o^vn 
sex  who  admitted  him  into  th(  ir  company.     I  had  tried  to 

convince  John  R (for  he  often  frequented   the  house 

under  the  pretence  of  borrowing  books)  of  the  gree^  crime 
that  he  was  constantly  committing,  and  of  the  injurious,  effect 
it  must  produce  upon  his  own  family,  but  the  mental  disease 
had  taken  too  deep  a  root  to  be  so  easily  cured.     Like  a 
person  labouring  under  some  foul  disease,  he  contaminated  all 
he  touched.     Such  men  seem  to  make  an  ambitious  display 
of  their  bad  habits  in  such  scenes,  and  if  they  afford  a  little 
help,  they  are  sure  to  get  intoxicated  and  make  a  row.     There 
was  my  friend,  old  Ned  Dunn,  who  had  been  so  anxious  to 
get  us  out  of  the  burning  fallow.     There  was  a  whole  group 
of  Dummer  Pines  :  Levi,  the  little  wiry,  witty  poacher;  Cor- 
nish  Bill,  the  honest-hearted  old  peasant,  with  his  stalwart 
figure  and  uncouth  dialect;  and  David,  and  Ned—all  good 


m. 


f 


G4 


noVOinKG  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


h  < 


men  and  true;  and  Malachi  Qiroak,  a  queer,  withered-up 
monkey-man,  that  seemed  JIke  some  mischievous  elf,  flitting 
from  heap  to  heap  to  make  work  and  fun  for  the  rest;  and 
many  others  were  at  that  bee  who  have  since  found  a  rest  in 

the  wilderness:  Adam  T ,  H ,  j.  ^ jj  p^ 

These,  at  diflerent  times,  lost  their  lives  in  those  bright  waters 
in  which,  on  such  occasions  as  these,  they  used  to  sport  and 
frohc  to  refresh  themselves  during  the  noonday  heat.  Alas » 
how  many,  who  were  then  young  and  in  their  prime,  that  river 
and  its  lakes  have  swept  away ! 

^     Our  men  worked  well  until  dimier-time,  when,  after  wash- 
ing m  the  lake,  they  all  sat  do^vn  to  the  rude  board  which  I 
had  prepared  for  thom,  loaded  with  the  best  flire  that  could 
be  procured  in  the  bush.     Pea-soup,  legs  of  pork,  venison, 
eel    and  raspberry  pies,  garnished  with  plenty  of  potatoes, 
and  whiskey  to  wash  them  down,  besides  a  large  iron  kettle 
ol  tea     To  pour  out  the  latter,  and  dispense  it  round,  de- 
volved  upon  me.     My  brother  and  his  friends,  who  were  all 
temperance  men,  and  consequently  the  best  workers  in  the 
field,  kept  me  and  the  maid  actively  employed  in  replenishing 
their  cups.  ^ 

The  dinner  passed  off  tolerably  well ;  some  of  the  lower 
order  of  the  Irish  settlers  were  pretty  far  gone,  but  they  com- 
minted  no  outrage  upon  our  feelings  by  either  swearing  or  bad 
language,  a  few  harmless  jokes  alone  circJ.,ting  among  them 

Some  one  was  funning  Old  Wittals  for  having  eaten  seven 

large  cabbages  at  Mr.  T 's  bee,  a  few  days  previous.     His 

son,  Sol  thought  himself,  as  in  duty  bound,  to  take  up  the 
cudgel  for  his  father.  ^ 

.1    ^IT^'  \T'^  '^''^''  ^  ^^''  ^"^^^^^-    ^^3^ther  was  sick 
that  day,  and  I  tell  you  he  only  ate  five." 

^  Tliis  announcement  was  followed  by  such  an  explosion  of 
mirth  that  the  boy  looked  fiercely  round  him,  as  if  he  could 


f 


OUR  hOGQINa-BEE. 


65 


I  \ 


scarcely  believe  the  fact  that  the  whole  party  were  laughln<. 
at  him.  ''  &     & 

Malachi  Chroak,  who  was  good-naturedly  drunk,  had  di.,- 
covered  an  old  pair  of  cracked  bellows  in  a  corner,  which  he 
placed  under  hi.  arm,  and  applying  his  mouth  to  the  nine, 
and  working  his  elbows  to  and  fro,  pretended  that  ho  wa^ 
playing  upon  the  bagpipes,  every  now  and  then  letting  the 
wnid  escape  in  a  shrill  squeak  from  this  novol  instrument. 

Arrah,  ladies  and  jintlemen,  do  jist  turn  your  swate  little 
eyes  upon  me  whilst  I  play  for  your  iddifications  the  last  illi- 
gant  tune  which  my  owld  grandmother  taught  me.  Och  hone  I 
t.s  a  thousand  pities  that  such  musical  owld  crathurs  should  be 
suffered  to  d  e,  at  all  at  all,  to  be  poked  away  into  a  dirthy 
dark  hole,  when  their  canthles  shud  be  burnin-  ^top  of  a 
bushel,  givm  light  to  the  house.  An'  then  it  is  she  that  was 
the  illigaut  dancer,  stepping  out  so  lively  and  frisky,  just  so  '• 
And  here  he  minced  to  and  fro,  affecting  the  airs  of  a' fine 

howl,  and  he  flung  ,t  dow-n,  and  started  back  with  a  ludicrous 
expression  of  alarm. 

"Alive  is  it  ye  are?    Ye  croaking  owld  divil,  is  that  the 
tune  you  taught  your  son  1 

«  Och !  my  owld  granny  taught  me,  but  now  she  is  dead, 
That  a  dhrop  of  nate  whiskey  is  good  for  the  head ; 
It  would  make  a  man  spake  when  jist  ready  to  dliio. 
If  you  doubt  it-my  boys  l-I'd  adviBo  you  to  thry? 

«  Och  1  my  owld  granny  sleeps  with  her  head  on  a  stono,- 
'Now,  Malach,  don't  throuble  the  gals  when  I'm  gone  ' 
I  thried  to  obey  her ;  but,  och,  I  am  shure, 
There's  no  sorrow  on  earth  that  the  angels  can't  euro. 

«'  Och !  I  took  her  advice-I'm  a  bachelor  still  • 
And  I  dance,  and  I  play,  with  such  excellent  skill, 

That  the  dear  litUe  crathurs  are  striving  in  vain  ^ 

Which  first  shaU  my  hand  or  my  fortin'  obtain." 


]!  !  il 


17  f 


66 


nouGinm  it  in  the  bvsh. 


"  ^f^^f  !"  «»>o"l-d  a  laughing,  group.  "  How  was  it  that 
the  old  Jady  taught  you  to  go  a^courting?" 

"Arrah,  that's  a  sacret!  I  don't  let  out  owld  granny's 
sacrcts,  said  Malaehi,  gracefully  waving  his  head  to  and  ?ro 
to  the  squealing  of  the  bellows;  then,  suddenly  tossing  back 
the  long,  danghng,  black  elf  locks  that  curled  down  the  sides 
of  Ins  ank  yellow  cheeks,  and  winking  knowingly  with  his 
comical  httle  deep-seated  black  eyes,  he  burst  out  Jgain- 

'' Wid  tho  blarney  I'd  win  tl>o  most  dainty  proud  dame, 
ISO  gftl  can  resist  tho  soft  sound  of  that  same ; 
^\  ,.1  the  blarney,  n,y  boys_if  you  doubt  it,  go  thry- 
But  hand  liero  tlic  bottle,  my  wlustle  is  dhry." 

The  men  went  back  to  the  field,  leaving  Malaehi  to  amuse 
those  who  remamed  in  the  house ;  and  we  certainly  did  laugh 
our  fill  at  his  odd  capers  and  conceits. 

Then  he  would  insist  upon  marrying  our  maid.     There 
could  be  no  refusal-have  her  he  would.     The  girl,  to  keen 
him  quiet,  laughingly  promised  that  she  would  take  him  for 
her  husband      This  did  not  satisfy  him.     She  must  take  her 
oath  upon  the  Bible  to  that  effect.     Mary  pretended  that 
there  was  no  biWe  in  the  house,  but  he  found  an  old  spelling, 
book  upon  a  she  f  h,  the  kitchen,  and  upon  it  he  made  her 
swear,  and  called  upon  me  to  bear  witness  to  her  oath  that 
she  was  now  his  betrothed,  and  he  would  go  next  day' with 
her  to  the"praist."     Poor  Mary  had  reastn  to  repent  h  r 

her  tl  rifu''"      '''"  ''  '"'  ^'^  "'^^^  ^--'"g'  t---ting 
her  to  fulfil  her  contract.     After  the  sun  went  down,  the  lol 

ging-band  came  m  to  supper,  which  was  all  ready  for  them 

returned  to   their  own  homes-    wliilo  fi,^     •  •  \     , 

,      ,  .,       ,         "  iiumes,    wnile  the  vicious  and  the 

drunken  staid  to  brawl  and  fight. 

After  having  placed  the  supper  on  the  table,  I  was  so  tired 


1 


I  J;-*-- 


fc  *s 


hack 


OC-R  LOGOmO-BEK  f^ 

With  the  «oisc,  and  hct,  and  fuliguo  of  ,he  day,  that  I  wnt 
to^b^,  leuvng  ,0  M,,,,.  ,„a  ,.,  ,„„,,„,  ,,;  ^^^^  ^^  ^,_^' 

We  wore  obliged  to  endure  a  second  and  a  third  repetition 
o  th,»  od,on.  seone,  before  sixteen  aeres  of  land  were  r  ndered 
fit  for  the  reeoption  of  o„r  fall  crop  of  wheat. 

My  hatred  to  these  tumult„ou»,  disorderly  meetinsrs  was 
"Ot  n  he  least  decreased  by  my  hnsband  being  twiee  seriously 
hurt  «lnle  attending  them.    Alter  the  seco,:i  injury  he  re^ 

servant  n.  h,s  place.     In  these  odious  gatherings,  the  sober 

dtunkcn  and  profane,  as  during  the  delirium  of  drink  these 
men  expose  others  to  danger  as  well  as  themselves 

The  conduct  of  many  of  the  settlers,  who  considered  them, 
selves  gentlemen,  and  would  have  been  very  much  aftVonted 
to  have  been  e.lled  otherwise,  was  often  n,ore  reprohensi  ,  e 
than  that  of  the  poor  Irish  emigrants,  to  whom  they  sho  dd 
have  set  an  example  of  order  and  sobriety.  The  behaviour 
of  these  young  men  drew  upon  them  the  severe  but  just  een. 
sures  of  the  poorer  class,  whom  they  regarded  in  every  wry 
as  their  mforiors.  .»  ""y 

"That  blackguard  calls  himself  a  gentleman.  In  what 
respect  ,s  he  better  than  nsf  was  an  observation  too  fre- 
quently made  use  of  at  these  gatherings.  To  see  bad  man 
m  the  very  worst  point  of  view,' follow  him  to  a  W-XZ 
profane,  l,ecn„ous,  quarrelsome,  or  a  rogue,  all  his  nativl 
wickedness  will  be  fully  developed  there 

Just  after  the  last  of  these  logging-bees,  we  had  to  part 
with  our  good  servant  Mary,  and  just  at  a  time  when  it  was 
the  heaviest  loss  to  me.  Her  father,  who  had  been  a  dairy, 
man  m  the  north  of  Ireland,  an  honest,  industrious  man,  had 
brought  out  upwards  of  one  hundred  pounds  to  this  country 


p 


V  ■'t'^m^^w^'^ngam^ 


K.. 


If! 


h  * 


ii  i  ' 


i  / 


! 


68 


ROUGIIINa  IT  IN  THE  BUSH 


AVitli  more  wisdom  than 


generally  exercised  \>y  Irish  emi- 
grants, instead  of  sinking  all  lii.s  means  in  bnying  a  bush  farm, 
he  liirc^d  a  very  good  farm  in  Cavan,  stocked  it  with  cattle,  and 
returned  to  his  old  avocation.  The  services  of  his  daughter, 
who  was  an  excellent  dairymaid,  were  required  to  take  the 
management  of  the  cows  ;  and  her  brother  brought  a  wagon 
and  horses  all  the  way  from  the  front  to  take  her  home. 

This  event  was  perfectly  unexpected,  and  left  mo  without 
a  moment's  notice  to  provide  myself  >vith  another  servant,  at 
a  time  when  servants  were  not  to  be  had,  and  I  was  perfectly 
una  Mo  to  do  the  least  thing.  My  little  Addio  was  sick  almost 
to  death  with  the  summer  complaint,  and  the  eldest  still  too 
young  to  take  care  of  herself. 

Tliis  was  but  the  begimiing  of  trouble. 
Ague  and  lake  fever  had  attacked  our  new  settlement. 
The  men  in  the  shanty  were  all  down  with  it;    and  my 
husband  was  confined  to  his  bed  on  each  alternate  day,  unable 
to  raise  hand  or  foot,  and  raving  in  the  delirium  of  the  fever. 
In  my  sister  and  brother's  families,  scarcely  a  healthy  per- 
son  remamed  to  attend  upon  the  sick ;  and  at  Ilerriot's  Falls, 
nine  persons  were  stretched  upon  the  floor  of  one  log  cabin' 
unable  to  help  themselves  or  one  another.     After  much  diffi' 
culty,  and  only  by  offering  enormous  wages,  I  succeeded  in 
procuring  a  nurse  to  attend  upon  me  during  my  confmement. 
The  woman  had  not  been  a  day  in  the  house  before  she  was 
attacked  by  the  same  fever.     In  the  midst  of  this  confusion, 
and  with  my  precious  little  Addle  lying  insensible  on  a  pillow 
at  the  foot  of  my  bed— expected  every  moment  to  breathe 
her  last  sigh,— on  the  night  of  the  2r)th  of  August,  the  boy  I 
had  so  ardently  coveted  was  born.     The  next  day,  Old  Pine 
carried  his  wife  (my  nurse)  away  upon  his  back,  and  I  was 
left  to  struggle  through,  in  the  best  manner  I  could,  with  a 
sick  husband,  a  sick  cliild,  and  a  new-born  babe. 


OUR  LOGGING-BEE. 


69 


It  was  a  melancholy  soason,  one  of  severe  mental  and 
l)odilv'  suflirinj^.  Those  who  have  drawn  Huch  af^^reeable  pic- 
tures of  a  residence  in  the  backwoods  never  dwell  upon  liio 
periods  of  sickness,  when,  far  from  medical  advice,  and  often, 
as  in  my  case,  deprived  of  the  assistance  of  friends  by  ad- 
verse  circumstances,  you  are  left  to  languish,  unattended,  upon 
the  couch  of  pain.  The  day  that  my  husband  was  free  of  the 
fit,  he  did  what  he  could  for  me  and  his  poor  sick  babes,  but, 
ill  as  he  was,  he  was  oldiged  to  sow  the  wheat  to  enable  the 
man  to  proceed  with  the  drag,  and  was  therefore  necessarily 
absent  in  the  field  the  greater  part  of  the  day. 

I  was  very  ill,  yet  for  hours  at  a  time  I  had  no  friendly 
voice  to  cheer  me,  to  proffer  me  a  drink  of  cold  water,  or  to 
attend  to  the  poor  babe ;  and  worse,  still  worse,  there  was  no 
one  to  help  that  pale,  marble  child,  who  lay  so  cold  and  still, 
with  half-closed  violet  eye,  as  if  death  had  already  chilled  her 
young  heart  in  his  iron  grasp. 

Inhere  was  not  a  breath  (^f  air  in  our  close,  burning  bed- 
closet  ;  and  the  w^cather  was  sultry  beyond  all  that  I  have 
since  experienced.  How  I  wished  that  I  could  be  transported 
to  an  hospital  at  home,  to  enjoy  the  common  care  that  in  such 
places  is  bestowed  upon  the  sick  !  Bitter  tearr  flowed  con- 
tmually  from  my  eyes  over  those  young  children.  I  had 
asked  of  Heaven  a  son,  and  there  he  lay  helpless  by  the  side 
of  his  almost  equally  helpless  mother,  who  could  not  lift  him 
up  in  her  arms,  or  still  his  cries  ;  while  the  pale,  fair  angel, 
with  her  golden  curls,  who  had  lately  been  the  admiration  of 
all  who  saw  her,  no  lorg  r  recognized  my  voice,  or  was  con- 
scious of  my  presence.  I  felt  that  I  could  almost  resign  the 
long  and  eagerly  hoped-for  son,  to  win  one  more  smife  from 
that  sweet,  suffering  creature.  Often  did  I  weep  myself  to 
sleep,  and  wake  to  weep  again  with  renewed  anguish. 

And  my  poor  little  Katie,  herself  under  three  years  of  age, 


i  '■ 


r'  m 


■■  i  • 


70 


lioroinxG  it  in  the  bcsit. 


how  pa  .ontly  .ho  bore  the  loss  of  my  care,  nnd  every  c.n. 
tort  ,  IJow  earnestly  the  Jear  thin^  strove  to  help  me  !  She 
would  «.t  on  my  siek-bed,  and  hold  my  hand,  and  ask  me  to 
ook  .(  her  and  speak  to  her ;  would  inquire  why  Addie  slept 
80  lonp,  and  when  she  would  awake  a,ain.     Those  innoeent 

questions  went  l.ke  arrows  to  my  heart.     Lieutenant 

he  hus  ,and^  of  my  dear  Kmilia,  at  length  heard  of  my  situj 
t^on      Ihs  mestnuable  wife  was  from  home,  nursing  her  siek 
mother;  but  U  sent  his  maid-servant  up  every  day  for  a 
couple  of  hours,  and  the  kind  g-'rl  despatehed  a  messenger 
nine  mdes   through   the  woods   to   Dummer,   to  feteh  her 
younger  sister,  a  ehild  of  twelve  years  old 
_    Oh,  how  grateful  I  felt  for  these  signal  mereies!  for  my 
situation  for  nearly  a  week  was  one  of  the  most  pitiable  that 
cou.d  be  imagined.     Tlie  siekness  was  so  prevalent  ihat  help 
was  not  to  be  obtained  for  money;  and  without  the  assist- 
ance  of  that  little  girl,  young  as  she  was,  it  is  more  than  prob- 
able  Uiat  neither  myself  nor  my  children  would  ever  have 
aii^m  from  that  bed  of  sickness. 

The  conduct  of  our  man  Jacob,  during  this  trying  period 
was  marked  with  the  greatest  kindness  and  considoration! 
Un  the  days  that  his  master  was  confined  to  his  bed  with  the 
fever,  he  used  to  place  a  vessel  of  cold  water  and  a  cup  by 
his  bedside,  and  then  put  his  honest  English  face  in  at  my 
door  to  know  if  he  could  make  a  cup  of  tea,  or  toast  a  bit  of 
bread  for  the  mistress,  before  he  went  into  the  field. 

Katie  was  indebted  to  him  for  all  her  meals.  He  baked 
and  cooked,  and  churned,  milked  the  cows,  and  made  up  the 
butter  as  well  and  as  carefully  as  the  best  female  servant 
couW  have  done.  As  to  poor  John  Monaghan,  he  was  down 
With  the  fever  m  the  shanty,  where  four  other  men  were  all  ill 
with  the  same  terrible  complaint. 

I  was  obliged  to  leave  my  bed  and  endeavour  to  attend  to 


r 


rJi£. 


OUR  LOGO TXG- BEE. 


71 


the  wan^  -  of  my  young  family  long  boforc  I  was  reallv  aiWo 
W  hen  i  made  my  first  attempt  to  roach  the  parlour  I  was  so 
weak,  that,  at  every  step,  I  fdt  as  if  I  should  j.lteh  furvvar.l  to 
the  ground,  Nvhieh  seemed  to  uruluiato  beneath  my  feet  like 
the  floor  of  a  cabin  in  a  storm  at  sea.  .Afy  husband  continued 
to  sufTer  for  many  weeks  with  the  ague ;  and  when  ho  wa. 
convalescent,  all  the  children,  even  the  poor  babe,  were  seized 
with  It;  nor  did  it  leave  us  until  late  in  the  spring  of  18;J5 


W    !'. 


! 


J 

m. 

M 

tt: 

ii 

^^B  -' 

f 

72 


ROUQUma  IT  IN  THE  BUSU. 


CHAPTEK    V. 

A    TRIP    TO    STONY    LAKE. 

IVTY  husband  had  long  promised  me  a  trip  to  Stony  Lake, 
-^^J-  and  in  the  summer  of  1835,  before  the  harvest  com' 

menced,  he  gave  Mr.  Y ,  who  kept  the  mill  at  the  rapids 

below  Clear  Lake,  notice  of  our  intention,  and  the  worthy  old 
man  and  his  family  made  due  preparation  for  our  reception. 
The  little  girls  were  to  accompany  us. 

We  were  to  start  at  sunrise,  to  avoid  the  heat  of  the  day, 

to  go  up  as  far  as  Mr.  Y 's  in  our  canoe,  re-embark  with 

his  sons  above  the  rapids  in  birch-bark  canoes,  go  as  far  up 
the  lake  as  we  could  accomplish  by  daylight,  and  return  at 
night ;  the  weather  being  very  warm,  and  the  moon  at  full. 
Before  six  o'clock  we  were  all  seated  in  the  little  craft,  which 
spread  her  white  sail  to  a  foaming  breeze,  and  sped  merrily 
over  the  blue  waters.     The  lake  on  which  our  clearing  stood 
was  about  a  mile  and  a  haif  in  length,  and  about  tlu-ee  quar- 
ters of  a  mile  in  breadth  ;  a  mere  pond,  when  compared  with 
the  Bay  of  Qumte,  Ontario,  and  the  inland  seas  of  Canada. 
But  it  was  our  lake,  and,  consequently,  it  had  ten  thousand 
beauties  in  our  eyes,  wliich  would  scarcely  have  attracted  the 
observation  of  a  stranger. 

At  the  head  of  the  Kutchawanook,  the  lake  is  divided  by 
a  long  neck  of  land,  that  forms  a  small  bay  on  the  right-hand 
side,  and  a  very  brisk  rapid  on  the  left.  The  banks  are  formed 
of  large  masses  of  limestone;  and  the  cardinal-flower  and  the 


I 


A  TRIP  TO  STONY  LAKE. 


73 


tiger-lily  seem  to  have  taken  an  especial  fancy  to  this  spot, 
and  to  vie  with  each  other  in  the  display  of  their  gorgeous 
colours. 

It  is  an  excellent  place  for  fishing ;  the  water  is  very  deep 
close  to  the  rocky  pavement  that  forms  the  bank,  and  it  has  a 
pebbly  bottom.  Many  a  magic  hour,  at  rosy  dawn,  or  even- 
"^g  gray,  have  I  spent  with  my  husband  on  this  romantic 
spot ;  our  canoe  fastened  to  a  bush,  and  ourselves  intent  upon 
ensnaring  the  black  bass,  a  fish  of  excellent  flavour  that 
abounds  in  this  place. 

Our  paddles  soon  carried  us  past  the  narrows,,  and  through 
the  rapid  water,  the  children  sitting  quietly  at  the  bottom  of 
the  boat,  enchanted  with  all  they  heard  and  saw,  begging  papa 
to  stop  and  gather  water-lilies,  or  to  catch  one  of  the  splendid 
butterflies  that  hovered  over  us ;  and  often  the  little  Addie 
darted  her  white  hand  into  t^^  water  to  grasp  at  the  shadow 
of  the  gorgeous  ii?  sects  as  thtj.  skimmed  along  the  waves. 

After  passing  the  rapids,  the  river  widened  into  another 
small  lake,  perfectly  round  in  form,  and  having  in  its  centre  a 
tiny  green  island,  in  the  midst  of  which  stood,  like  a  shattered 
monument  of  bygone  storms,  one  blasted,  black  ash-tree. 

The  Indians  call  this  lake  Bessikdkoon,  but  I  do  not  know 
the  exact  meaning  of  the  word.  Some  say  that  it  means  "  the 
Indian's  grave ;"  others,  "  the  lake  of  the  one  island."  It  is 
certain  that  an  Indian  girl  is  buried  beneath  that  blighted 
tree ;  but  I  never  could  learn  the  particulars  of  her  story,  and 
perhaps  there  was  no  tale  connected  with  it.  She  might  have 
fellen  a  victim  to  disease  during  the  wanderings  of  her  tribe, 
and  been  buried  on  that  spot;  or  she  might  have  been 
drowned,  which  would  account  for  her  having  been  buried 
away  from  the  rest  of  her  people. 

This  little  lake  lies  in  the  heart  of  the  wilderness.     There 
is  but  one  clearing  upon  its  shores,  and  that  had  been  made 


V    >'■■    ,, 


vnr     Tr 


tii 


74 


ROUGHINa  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


If?' "' 


by  lumberers  many  years  before ;  the  place  abounded  with 
red  cedar.  A  second  growth  of  young  timber  had  grown  up 
in  this  spot,  which  was  covered  also  with  raspberry  bushes- 
several  hundred  acres  being  entirely  overgrown  with  this  de- 
licious  berry. 

It  was  here  annually  that  we  used  to  eome  in  large  picnic 
parties,  to  collect  this  valuable  fruit  for  our  winter  preserves 
m  defiance  of  black-flies,  mosquitoes,  snakes,  and  even  bears' 
all  which  have  been  encountered  by  berry.pickers  upon  this 
spot,  as  busy  and  as  active  as  themselves,  gathering  an  ample 
repast  from  Nature's  bounteous  lap. 

And,  oh !  what  beautiful  wild  shrubs  and  flowers  grew  up 
in  that  neglected  spot !  Some  of  the  happiest  hours  I  spent 
m  the  ^bush  are  connected  with  reminiscences  of  « Irving's 
shanty,"  for  so  the  raspberry-grounds  were  called.  The  clear 
ing  could  not  be  seen  from  the  shore.  You  had  to  scramble 
through  a  cedar  swamp  to  reach  the  sloping  ground  which 
produced  the  berries. 

The  mill  at  the  Gear  Lake  rapids  was  about  three  miles 
distant  from  our  own  clearing;  and  after  stemming  another 
rapid,  and  passing  between  two  beautiful  wooded  islands  the 
canoe  rounded  a  point,  and  the  rude  structure  was  before'us 

A  wilder  and  more  romantic  spot  than  that  which  the  old 
hunter  had  chosen  for  his  homestead  in  the  wilderness  could 
scarcely  be  imagined.     The  waters  of  Clear  Lake  here  empty 
themselves  through  a  narrow,  deep,  rocky  channel,  not  exceed- 
ing  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  length,  and  tumble  over  a  limeolone 
bridge  of  ten  or  twelve  feet  in  height,  which  extends  from  one 
bank  of  the  river  to  the  other.     The  shores  on  either  side  are 
very  steep,  and  the  large  oak-trees  which  have  anchored  their 
roots  ,n  every  crevice  of  the  rock,  throw  their  fantastic  arms 
far  over  the  foar  Ing  waterfall,  the  deep  green  of  their  massy 
foliage  forming  a  beautiful  contrast  with  the  white,  flashmg 


it, 

I 


A  TRIP  TO  STONY  LAKE. 


75 


tided  with 
grown  Tip 
bushes — 
1  this  de- 


ge  picnic 
•reserves, 
in  bears ; 
»pon  this 
m  ample 

grew  up 
I  spent 
'  Irving's 
he  clear- 
icrarnble 
d  which 

se  miles 
another 
nds,  the 
ore  us. 
the  old 
s  could 
empty 
exceed- 
leolone 
3m  one 
ide  are 
d  their 
c  arms 
massy- 
lashing 


waters  that  foam  over  the  shoot  at  least  fifty  feet  below  the 
brow  of  the  ?  nestone  rock.  By  a  flight  of  steps  cut  in  the 
banks  we  a&     ded  to  the  platform  above  the  river  on  which 

Mr.  Y 's  house  stood. 

It  was  a  large,  rough-looking,  log  building,  surrounded  by 
barns  and  sheds  of  the  same  primitive  material.     The  porch 
before  the  door  was  covered  with  hops,  and  the  room  of  gen- 
eral resort,  into  which  it  immediately  opened,  was  of  krge 
dimensions,  the  huge  fire-place  forming  the  most  striking  fel 
ture.     On  the  heartli-stone,  hot  as  was  tlie  weather,  blazed  a 
.    great  fire,  encumbered  with  all  sorts  of  culinary  apparatus, 
which,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  had  been  called  into  requisition 
for  our  sole  benefit  and  accommodation. 

The  good  folks  had  breakfasted  long  before  we  started  from 
home,  but  they  would  not  hear  of  our  proceeding  to  Stony 
Lake  until  after  we  had  dmed.  It  was  only  eight  o'clock, 
A.  M.,  and  we  had  still  four  hours  to  dinner,  which  gave 
us  ample  leisure  to  listen  to  the  old  man's  stories,  ramble 
round  the  premises,  and  observe  all  the  striking  features  of 
the  place. 

Mr.  Y was  a  Catholic,  and  the  son  of  a  respectable 

farmer  from  the  south  of  Ireland.     Some  few  years  before,  he 
had  emigrated  with  a  large  family  of  seven  sons  and  two 
daughters,  and  being  fond  of  field  sports,  and  greatly  taken 
with  the  beauty  of  the  locality  in  which  he  had  pitched  his 
tent  in  the  wilderness,  he  determined  to  raise  a  mill  upon  the 
dam  which  Nature  had  provided  at  his  hands,  and  wait  pa- 
tiently  until  the  increasing  immigration  should  settle  the  town- 
ship of  Smith  and  Douro,  render  the  property  valuable,  and 
bring  plenty  of  grist  to  the  mill.     He  was  not  far  wrong  in  his 
calculations;  and  though,  for  the  first  few  years,  he  subsisted 
entirely  by  hunting,  fishing,  and  raising  what  potatoes  and 
wheat  he  required  for  his  own  family,  on  the  most  fertile  spots 


'V 


•f 


.*  i 


It 

L:  :■■■  ,_ 

.(.  rl 


Uii 


"M 


i 


76 


ROUGHING  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


he  could  find  on  his  barren  lot,  very  little  corn  passed  through 
the  mill.  ^ 

At  the  time  we  visited  his  place,  he  was  driving  a  thriving 
trade,  and  all  the  wheat  that  was  grown  in  the  neighbourhood 

was  brought  by  water  to  be  ground  at  Y 's  mill.     He  had 

lost  his  wife  a  few  years  after  coming  to  the  country ;  but  his 
two  daughters,  Betty  and  Norah,  were  excellent  housewives, 
and  amply  supplied  her  loss.  From  these  amiable  women 
we  received  a  most  kind  and  hearty  welcome,  and  every 
comfort  and  luxury  witliin  their  reach.  They  appeared  a 
most  happy  and  contented  family.  The  sons— a  fine,  hardy, 
independent  set  of  fellows— were  regarded  by  the  old  man 
with  pride  md  affection.  Many  were  his  anecdotes  of  their 
prowess  in  hunting  and  fishing.  His  method  of  giving  them 
an  aversion  to  strong  drink  while  very  young  amused  me 
gi'eatly,  but  it  is  not  every  child  that  could  have  stood  the  test 
of  his  experiment. 

"  When  they  were  little  chaps,  from  five  to  six  years  of 
age,  I  made  them  very  drunk,"  he  said;  "so  drunk  that  it 
brought  on  severe  headaelio  and  sickness,  and  this  so  disgusted 
them  with  liquor,  that  they  never  could  abide  the  sight  of  it 
again.  I  have  only  one  drunkard  among  the  seven ;  and  he 
was  such  a  weak,  puling  crathur,  that  I  dared  not  play  the 
same  game  with  him,  lest  it  should  kill  him.  'Tis  his  nature, 
I  suppose,  and  he  can't  help  it;  but  the  truth  is,  that  to  make 
up  for  the  sobriety  of  all  the  rest,  he  is  killing  himself  with 
drink." 

Norah  gave  us  an  account  of  her  catching  a  deer  that  had 
got  into  the  enclosure  the  day  before. 

"I  went  out,"  she  said,  "  early  in  the  morning,  to  milk  the 
cows,  and  I  saw  a  fine  young  buck  struggling  to  get  through 
a  pale  of  the  fence,  in  which  having  entangled  his  head  and 
horns,  I  knew,  by  the  desperate  efforts  he  was  making  to  push 


\-< 


A  TRIP  TO  ST02rT  LAKE. 


77 


aside  the  rails,  that  if  I  was  not  quick  in  getting  hold  of  him 
he  would  soon  be  gone."  ' 

"  And  did  you  dare  to  touch  him  ?" 

"If  I  had  had  Mat's  gun  I  would  have  shot  him,  but  he 
would  have  made  his  escape  long  before  I  could  run  to  the 
house  for  that,  so  I  went  boldly  up  to  him  and  got  him  by  the 
hind  legs;  and  though  he  kicked  and  struggled  dreadfully,  I 
held  on  till  Mat  heard  me  call,  and  ran  to  my  help,  and  cut 
his  tlu-oat  with  his  hunting-knife.  So  you  see,"  she  con- 
tmued,  with  a  good-natured  laugh,  «I  can  beat  our  hunters 
hollow—tney  hunt  the  deer,  but  I  can  catch  a  buck  with  my 
hands."  '' 

WhUe  we  were  chatting  away,  great  were  the  preparations 
makmg  by  Miss  Betty  and  a  very  handsome  American  woman, 
who  had  recently  come  thither  as  a  help.     One  little  bare- 
footed garsoon  was  shelling  peas  in  an  Indian  basket,  another 
was  stringing  currants   into  a  yellow  pie-dish,  and  a  third 
was  sent  to  the  rapids  with  his  rod  and  line,  to  procure  a  dish 
of  fresh  fish  to  add  to  the  long  list  of  bush  dainties  that  were 
preparmg  for  our  dinner.     It  was  in  vain  that  I  begged  our 
kind  entertainers  not  to  put  themselves  to  the  least  trouble  on 
our  account,  telling  them  that  we  were  now  used  to  the  woods, 
and  contented- with  anything;  they  were  determined  to  ex- 
haust all  their  stores  to  furnish  forth  the  entertainment.     Nor 
can  it  be  wondered  at,  that,  with  so  many  dishes  to  cook,  and 
pies  and  custards  to  bake,  instead  of  dining  at  twelve,  it  was 
past  two  o'clock  before  we  were  conducted  to  the  dinner-table. 
I  was  vexed  and  disappointed  at  the  delay,  as  I  wanted  to  see 
all  I  could  of  the  spot  we  were  about  to  visit  before  night 
and  darkness  compelled  us  to  return. 

The  feast  was  spread  in  a  large  outhouse,  the  table  being 
formed  of  two  broad  deal  boards  laid  together,  and  supported 
by  rude  carpenter's  stools.    A  white  linen  cloth,  a  relic  of 


5:1 


n 


_    MM 


1  ;1  • 


mk 


!'< 


1^1 


Mi ' 


III       , 


!    S- 


78 


BOXIGniNO  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


better  days,  concealed  these  arrangements.     The  board  was 
covered  with  an  indescribable  variety  of  roast  and  boiled,  of 
fish,  flesh,  and  fowl.     My  readers  should  sec  a  table  laid  out 
m  a  wealthy  Canadian  farmer's  house  before  they  can  have 
any  idea  of  the  profusion  displayed  in  the  entertainment  of 
two  visitors  and  their  young  children.    Besides  venison  pork 
clnckens,  ducks,  and  fish  of  several  kinds,  cooked  in  a  variety 
of  ways,  there  was  a  number  of  pumpkin,  raspberry,  cherry 
and  currant  pies,  with  fresh  butter  and  green  cheese  (as  the 
new  cream-cheese  is  called),  molasses,  preserves,  and  pickled 
cucumbers,  besides  tea  and  coffee-the  latter,  be  it  known  I 
had  watched  the  American  woman  boiling  in  th^  frying-pan. 
It  was  a  black-looking  compound,  and  I  did  not  attempt  to 
di^uss  Its  merits.     The  vessel  in  which  it  had  been  prepared 
had  prejudiced  me,  and  rendered  me  very  skeptical  on  that 
score. 

^  We  were  all  very  hungry,  having  tasted  nothing  since  five 
o  clock  m  the  morning,  and  contrived,  out  of  the  variety  of 
good  things  before  us,  to  make  an  excellent  dinner. 

I  was  glad,  however,  when  we  rose  to  prosecute  our  in- 
tended  trip  up  the  lake.  The  old  man,  whose  heart  was  now 
thoroughly  warmed  with  whiskey,  declared  that  he  meant  to 
make  one  of  the  party,  and  Betty,  too,  was  to  accompany  us; 
her  sister  Norah  kindly  staying  behind  to  take  care  of  the 
children.  We  followed  a  path  along  the  top  of  the  high  ridge 
of  limestone  rock,  until  we  had  passed  the  falls  and  the  rapids 

above,  when  we  found  Pat  and  Mat  Y waiting  for  us  on 

the  shore  below,  in  two  beautiful  new  birch-bark  canoes, 
which  they  had  purchased  the  day  before  from  the  Indians 

Miss  Betty,  Mat,  and  myself,  were  safely  stowed  into  one, 
wh,  e  the  old  miUer  and  his  son  Pat,  and  my  husband,  em- 
barked m  the  other,  and  our  steersmen  pushed  off  into  the 
middle  of  the  deep  and  silent  stream ;  the  shadow  of  the  taU 


A   TRIP  TO  STONY  LAKE. 


79 


\ 


woods  towering  so  many  feet  above  us,  casting  an  inky  hue 

upon  the  waters.     The  scene  was  very  imposing,  and  after 

paddling  for  a  few  minutes  in  shade  and  silence,  we  suddenly 

emerged  into  light  and  sunshine,  and  Clear  Lake,  which  gets 

its  name  from  the  unrivalled  brightness  of  its  waters,  spread 

out  its  azure  mirror  before  us.     The  Indians  regard  this  sheet 

of  water  with  peculiar  reverence.     It  abounds  in  the  forest 

sorts  of  fish,  the  salmon-trout,  the  delicious  white  fish,  muske- 

nonge,  and  black  and  white  bass.     There  is  no  island  in  this 

lake,  no  rice  beds,  nor  stick  nor  stone,  to  break  its  tranquil 

beauty,  and,  at  the  time  we  visited  it,  there  was  but  one 

clearing  upon  its  shores. 

The  log  hut  of  the  squatter  P ,  commanding  a  beauti- 
ful prospect  up  and  down  the  lake,  stood  upon  a  bold  slope 
fronting  the  water ;  all  the  rest  was  unbroken  forest.  We 
had  proceeded  about  a  mile  on  our  pleasant  voyage,  when  our 
attention  was  attracted  by  a  singular  natural  phenomenon 

which  Mat  Y called  the  battery.     On  the  r,ght-hand  side 

of  the  shore  rose  a  steep,  perpendicular  wall  of  limestone,  that 
had  the  appearance  of  having  been  laid  by  the  hand  of  man, 
so  smooth  and  even  was  its  surface.  After  attaining  a  height 
of  about  fifty  feet,  a  natural  platform  of  eight  or  ten  yards 
broke  the  perpendicular  line  of  the  rock,  when  another  wall, 
like  the  first,  rose  to  a  considerable  height,  terminating  m  a 
second  and  third  platform  of  the  same  description. 

Fire,  at  some  distant  period,  had  run  over  these  singularly 
beautiful  terraces,  and  a  second  growth  of  poplars  and  balm- 
of-gileads  relieved,  by  their  tender  green  and  light,  airy 
foiiage,  the  sombre  indigo  tint  of  the  heavy  pines  that  nodded 
like  the  plumes  of  a  funeral-hearse  over  the  fair  young  dwell- 
ers on  the  rock.  The  water  is  forty  feet  deep  at  the  base  of 
this  precipice,  which  is  washed  by  the  waves.  After  we  had 
passed  the  battery,  Mat  Y turned  to  me  and  said,  "  Thafc 


m 


m 


Mi 'If 


I. 


80 


ROUOIIUJa  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


l?.r:.?'"  '"'  '''''  ■'  -^^  *  "-  —  I  ^hot  among 

comrj.  '"^  '°  "  '""^  "^'°"'''°"  °"  "">  """^  '^-^"^'^  of  tk« 

"I  do  not  think  that  there  is  much  danger  to  be  arwe. 
hended  from  them,"  said  ho ;  "  but  I  once  halan  ulXn 
ture  with  a  wolf  two  winters  ago,  on  this  lake."  ^ 

1  was  all  curiosity  to  hear  the  story,  which  sounded  doublv 

eiit^lZT  ^"'t"^^  "'  *'  ^"^  "^  «'°"y  Lake,  about 

otlier  hands.    The  winter  was  long  and  severe;  although  it 
w«  the  first  week  in  March,  there  was  not  the  least  ^ 

Ilw ,.      .        '""'  ^""  *"  ^"'^  "  y'-''^  of  °»»  to  draw 

pietea,  and  the  logs  ready  for  rafting. 

"  I  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  encumber  myself  with  mv 

nflo  and  was,  therefore,  provided  with  no  weapon  of  defers 

but  th.  long  gad  I  used  to  urge  on  the  cattle."^  It  was  about 
four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  I  rounded  Sandy  Pdnt 
that  long  pomt  which  is  about  a  mUe  ahead  of  us  on  the   eft 
shore,  when  I  first  discovered  that  I  was  followed,  but  at  a 
^eat  distance,  by  a  large  wolf.    At  first,  I  though    Mo  of 

mv  rrrr  'T '  "  P"^"S  ^^  <^^'  I  '-d  brought 
my  gun.  I  knew  that  he  would  not  attack  me  before  dark 
and  It  was  still  two  long  hours  to  sundown;  so  IwSstkd' 
and  urged  on  my  oxen,  and  soon  forgot  the  ;olf-wh  n  on 
stopping  to  repair  a  little  damage  to  L  peg  of  .he  yoke  I 
was  surprised  to  find  him  close  at  my  heels      I  turned  and 

brbTi'^r'^'T '' '""'''  could,  whrf si:  k 

back,  but  showed  no  inclmation  to  make  ofi:    Knowing  that 


II 


ot  among 

ts  of  the 

be  appre- 
ly  adven- 

i  doublj 
^er  those 

:e,  about 
I  several 
lough  it 
appear- 
firm  as 
to  draw 
all  com- 

nth  my 
defence 
i  about 

Point, 
the  left 
It  at  a 
ttle  of 
rought 
3  dark, 
listled, 
len,  on 
^oke,  I 
[3,  and 

slunk 
gthat 


^ 


A   TRIP  TO  STONY  LAKE.  gj 

ice,  and  would  come  to  mv  assistanPP      r 
-y  ^v-ay  through  the  islandsTn  sZ  L ^7  T  """"^ 
sotting  rod  before  me,  and  I  had  stnT  hrce  m  ^  rf  Z  ^ 
noy  to  aeoon.pl.h.    The  wolf  had  beeom    Totp  dlVthat 

itto^rl^fS--— ^^-\-^^^^^ 
heard  »e,  and  the'd  scharjo         «un'fo;  a^  '"""'"  '"'' 

cZt      ndTha d  '  T  °"'T  i"'  ''^*'  ^"°"Sh  to  dis'in  "'Th 
cbp  and  I  had  to  stop  and  faee  my  enemy,  to  keep  Z  at 

"I  saw  the  skeleton  forms  of  half-a^ozen  more  of  then. 
Blinking  among  the  bushes  that  skirted  a  low  isCd  °^  7  ^ 
and  eo,d,Igave  myself  and  the  o«„  up  fir  ^  ;h:n    'S 

heart.     Ue  th>ev.sh  varmmt.  instantly  fled  away'^into  t^I 
whrr™'  *"'  *'  ''*''  '■''"•  "^  ™'™'  "-"a  that  night  •  but 

dtf-"-----owj:;ir:trg::: 

We  were  fast  approaching  Sandy  Point,  a  long  white  ridge 


'•     ■  1 

1 

''■  ''^  T' 

-'  .  I'' 

'\ 

1 

v:' 

? 

f 

1' 

■J 

, 

I  1 

t 

!' 

M 


";l 


i  'I'' 


as 


ROUOmNQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


of  sand,  running  half  across  the  lake,  and  though  only  covered 
with  scattered  groups  of  scrubby  trees  and  brush,  it  effect, 
ualiy  screened  Stony  Lake  from  our  view.  ITierc  were  so 
many  beautiful  flowers  peeping  through  the  dwaif,  green 
bushes,  that,  wishing  to  inspect  them  nearer.  Mat  kindly  ran 
the  canoe  ashore,  and  told  me  that  he  would  show  me  a  pretty 
spot,  where  an  Indian,  who  had  been  drowned  during  a  storm 
off  that  point,  was  buried.  I  immediately  recalled  the  story 
of  Susan  Moore's  father,  but  Mat  thought  that  he  was  interred 
upon  one  of  the  islands  farther  up. 

"  It  is  strange,"  he  said,  » that  they  are  such  bad  swimmers. 
Tlie  Indian,  though  unrivalled  by  us  whites  in  the  use  of  the 
paddle,  is  an  animal  that  does  not  take  readily  to  the  water, 
and  those  among  them  who  can  swim  seldom  use  it  as  a 
recreation." 

Pushing  our  way  through  the  bushes,  we  came  to  a  small 
opening  in  the  underwood,  so  thickly  grown  over  with  wild 
Canadian  roses  in  full  blossom,  that  the  air  was  impregnated 
with  a  delightful  odour.  In  the  centre  of  this  bed  of  sweets 
rose  the  humble  mound  that  protected  the  bones  of  the  red 
man  from  the  ravenous  jaws  of  the  wolf  and  the  wild-cat. 
It  was  completely  covered  with  stones,  and  from  among 
the  crevices  had  sprung  a  tuft  of  blue  harebells,  waving 
as  wild  and  free  as  if  they  grew  among  the  bonny  red  hea- 
ther  on  the  glorious  hills  of  the  North,  or  Lhook  their  tiny 
bells  to  the  breeze  on  the  broom-encircled  commons  of 
England. 

The  harebell  had  always  from  a  child  been  with  me  a  fa- 
vourite  flower;  and  the  first  sight  of  it  in  Canada,  growing 
upon  that  lonely  grave,  so  flooded  my  soul  with  remembrances 
of  the  past,  that,  in  spite  of  myself,  the  tears  poured  freely 
from  my  eyes.  There  are  moments  when  it  is  impossible  to 
repress  those  outgushings  of  tho  heart—- 


J.  TRIP  TO  STONY  LAKE, 

•'Those  flood-gates  of  tlio  soul  that  sovor, 
In  pwision's  tide,  to  part  for  ever." 


88 


If  Mat  and  his  akter  wondered  at  my  tears,  they  must  have 
m  ipected  the  cause,  for  tliey  walked  to  a  little  distance,  and 
left  me  to  the  indulgence  of  my  feelings.  I  gathered  those 
flowers,  and  placed  them  in  my  bosom,  and  kept  them  for 
many  a  day ;  they  had  become  holy,  when  connected  with 
sacred  home  recollections,  and  the  never^iying  affections  of 
the  heart  which  the  sight  of  them  recalled. 

A  shout  from  our  companions  in  the  other  canoo  made  us 
retrace  our  steps  to  the  shore.     They  had  already  rounded 
the  pomt,  and  were  wondering  at  our  absence.     Oh,  what  a 
magnihcent  scene  of  wild  and  lonely  grandeur  burst  upon  ua 
as  we  swept  round  the  little  peninsula,  and  the  whole  majesty 
of  Stony  Lake  broke  upon  us  at  once ;  another  Lake  of  the 
Ihousand  Isles,  m  miniature,  and  in  the  heart  of  the  wilder 
ness !     Imagine  a  large  sheet  of  water,  some  fifteen  miles  in 
breadth  and  twenty-five  in  length,  taken  up  by  islands  of 
every  sue  and  shape,  from  the  lofty  naked  rock  of  red  granite 
to  the  rounded  hill,  covered  with  oak-leaves  to  its  summit- 
while  others  were  level  with  the  waters,  and  of  a  rich  emerald 
green,  only  fringed   with  a  growth   of  aquatic  shrubs  and 
flowers.     Never  did  my  eyes  rest  on  a  more  lovely  or  beau- 
^ful  scene.     Not  a  vestige  of  man,  or  of  his  works,  was  there. 
Xhe  setting  sun,  that  cast  such  a  gorgeous  flood  of  light  upon 
this   exquisite  panorama,  bringing  out  some  of  these  lofty 
islands  in  strong  relief,  and  casting  others  into  intense  shade 
shed  no  cheery  beam  upon  church  spire  or  cottage  pane' 
We  beheld  the  landscape,  savage  and  grand  in  its  primeval 
beauty. 

As  we  floated  among  the  channels  between  these  rocky 

picturesque  isles,  I  asked  Mat  how  many  of  them  there  were. 

"  I  never  could  succeed,"  he  said,  "in  counting  them  aU. 


f>^^a,:mk- 


84 


ROUOIUNG  IT  IN  THE  JlUSff. 


M 


1 1 


^,% 


One  Sunday,  Pat  and  I  spent  a  whole  day  in  going  from  one 
to  th«  otl  ,.  tr.  try  and  make  out  how  many  there  w.ro,  but 
we  couid  ...   V    .,^t  „p  ^,  ^„^  j^^^^^^j  ^^^j  ^^^^^  ^^^^^^  ^^ 

m*  ^  ife«  ta..k  in  despair      I'h^re  are  a  great  many  of 
^Zl^'T  "^^  ajiyo^e  would  think^and,  what  is  very 
•NpUar,  the  channel  between  them  i.  very  deep,  sometimes 
•Wefo. ry  feet  whieh  u,   ounts for  the  few  rapids  to  be  found 
\^  fin.    ake.     It  IS  a  gloriou.  place  for  hunting ;  and  the  wa. 
«  ;^*'^'**^"''^^  ^y  steamboats,  abou  d  in  all  sorts  of  fish 
Most  of  these  islands  are  covered  with  huckleberries  • 
wh.le  grapes,  high  and  low-bush  cranberries,  blackberries! 
wild  cherries,  gooseberries,  and  several  sorte  of  wild  currants 
grow  here  in  profusion.    There  is  one  island  among  these 
groups  (but  I  never  could  light  upon  the  identical  one)  where 
tiie  Indians  yearly  gather  their  wampum-grass.     They  come 
here  to  collect  the  best  birch-bark  for  their  canoes,  and  to 
gather  wild  onions.     In  short,  from  the  game,  fish,  and  fruit, 
which  they  collect  among  the  islands  of  this  lake,  they  chiefly 
depend  for  their  subsistence.     They  are  very  jealous  of  the 
settlers  m  the  country  coming  to  hunt  and  fish  here,  and  tell 
many  stones  of  wild  beasts  and  rattlesnakes  that  abound 
along  Its  shores ;  but  I,  who  have  frequented  the  lake  for  years 
was  never  disturbed  by  any  thing,  beyond  the  adventure  with 
the  wolf,  which  I  have  already  told  you.     The  banks  of  this 
lake  are  a^l  steep  and  rocky,  and  the  land  along  the  shore  is 
barren,  and  totally  unfit  for  cultivation. 

"  Had  we  time  to  run  up  a  few  miles  further,  I  could  have 
showed  you  some  places  well  worth  a  journey  to  look  at :  but 

w,-fJt-  "i'^''^^^"  "^^  ««^*^^  aJ«"?«ide,  and  Pat  agroed 
with  his  brother  that  it  was  high  time  to  rehim.  Witi,  .^ 
luctance  i  turned  from  this  strangely  fascinating  scene.    As 


A   TltlP  TO  STONY  LAKE. 


85 


we  pa«Bocl  under  one  hold  rocky  island,  M.r  .aid,  laughinHv 
"ITiat  IS  Mount  Riiscal,  'ymfiy. 

"  IIow  did  it  obtain  tiiat  mime  '» 

«pon  ,t  „nd,  after  searolung  for  an  hour,  vfe  returned  to  the 

The  island  was  so  beautiful,  it  did  not  desorvo  the  .,ame 
andlohnstenod  it"Oak  "'"•"  fr-  ««'  "'-"ndanrof  ol" 
trc  .  wh,ch  clothed  ita  steep  sides.  The  wood  of  this  oak  is 
«.  heavy  and  hard  that  it  will  not  float  in  the  wate  an.Ut 
m  great  request  for  the  runners  of  lumber-sleighs  Vh"i  have 
to  pass  over  very  bad  roads.  ,  wn.<.n  have 

Tl«  breeze,  which  had  rendered  our  sail  up  the  lakes  so 
expedmous  and  refreshing,  had  stiffened  into  a  pr,-  y  hi!^ 
wmd  wh,eh  was  dead  against  us  all  the  way  down     Be  ?! 
now  kne  t  in  the  bow  and  assisted  her  brotherf  squlw  '^1 
m  paddhng  the  canoe;  but,  in  spite  of  all  their'unl   trr! 
^ns,  ,t  was  past  ten  o'clock  before  we  reached  the  mm 
The  good  Norah  w-as  waiting  tea  for  us.    She  had  give  ,the 
ch,drenhe.r  supper  four  hours  ago,  and  the  little  e'reat,  res 
her  be"      ""'  ""'  '"'  ""  ^^^^  '^™  ^^^  -'-P  "i- 
After  supper,  several  Irish  songs  were  sung,  while  )  'at 
played  upon  the  fiddle,  and  Betty  and  Mat  enlivened 
company  with  an  Irish  jig. 

It  was  midnight  when  the  chUdren  were  placed  on  m, 
cloak  at  the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  and  we  bade  adieu  to  thb 
hospitable  family.  Ue  wind  being  dead  againstTs  Ve  wte 
obhged  to  dispense  with  the  saU,  and  tak!  to  our  padZ 
The  moonlight  was  as  bright  as  day,  the  air  warm  andLmr." 
and  the  aromatic,  resinous  smell  exuded  by  the  heat  from  the 


W    \  ' 


41 


I 

H 
'  'I 


Ur 


n  " 


86 


ROUGHma  IT  IN  TEE  BUSH. 


:ni 


balm-of-gilead  and  the  pine-trees  in  the  forest,  added  greatly 
to  our  sense  of  enjoyment  as  we  floated  past  scenes  so  wild 
and  lonely— isles  that  assumed  a  mysterious  look  and  charac- 
ter in  that  witching  hour.  In  moments  like  these,  I  ceased  to 
regret  my  separation  from  my  native  land ;  and,  filled  with 
the  love  of  Nature,  my  heart  forgot  for  the  time  the  love  of 
home.  The  very  spirit  of  peace  seemed  to  brood  over  the 
waters,  which  were  broken  into  a  thousand  ripples  of  light  by 
every  breeze  that  stirred  the  rice  blossoms,  or  whispered 
through  the  shivering  aspen-trees.  The  far-off  roar  of  the 
rapids,  soflencd  by  distance,  and  the  long,  mournful  cry  of 
the  night-owl,  alone  broke  the  silence  of  the  night.  Amid 
these  lonely  wilds  the  soul  draws  nearer  to  God,  and  is  filled 
to  overflowing  by  the  overwhelming  sense  of  His  presence. 

It  was  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  we  fastened  the 
canoe  to  the  landing,  and  Moodio  carried  up  the  children  to 
the  house.  I  found  the  girl  still  up  with  my  boy,  who  had 
been  very  restless  during  our  absence.  My  heart  reproached 
me,  as  1  caught  him  to  my  breast,  for  leaving  him  so  long ; 
in  a  few  minutes  he  was  consoled  for  past  sorrows,  and  sleep- 
ing sweetly  in  mj  arms. 


IIH 

,  ■ 

: 

'HH 

'■  ■■!■  ■ 

:lli 


DISAPPOINTED .  EOPES. 


m 


CHAPTEB   VI. 


DISAPPOINTED      HOPE  a. 

JIHE  summer  of  '35  was  very  wet;  a  circumstance  so  un. 
-*-  usual  m  Canada  that  I  have  seen  no  season  like  it  during 
my  sojourn  m  the  country.     Our  wheat  crop  promised  to  be 
boh  excellent  and  abundant;  and  the  clearing  and  seeding 
sixteen  acres,  one  way  or  another,  had  cost  us  more  than  fifty 
pounds ;  still,  we  hoped  to  realize  something  handsome  by  the 
sale   of  the  produce;   and,  as  far  as  appearances  went,  all 
looked  fair.     The  rain  commenced  about  a  week  before  the 
crop  was  fit  for  the  sickle,  and  from  that  time  until  nearly  the 
end  of  September  was  a  mere  succession  of  thunder  showers- 
days  of  intense  heat,  succeeded  by  floods  of  rain.     Our  fine 
crop  shared  the  fate  of  all  other  fine  crops  in  the  country  •  it 
was  totally  spoiled;  the  wheat  grew  in  the  sheaf,  and  we  could 
scarcely  save  enough  to  supply  us  with  bad,  sticky  bread  •  the 
rest  was  exchanged  at  the  distillery  for  whiskey,  which  was 
the  only  produce  which  could  be  obtained  for  it.     The  store 
keepers  would  not  look  at  it,  or  give  either  money  or  goods 
tor  such  a  damaged  article. 

My  husband  and  I  had  worked  hard  in  the  field  •  it  was 
the  first  time  I  had  ever  tried  my  hand  at  field-labour,  but  our 
ready  money  was  exhausted,  and  the  steamboat  stock  had  not 
paid  us  one  farthing;  we  could  not  hire,  and  there  was  no  help 
for  It.  I  had  a  hard  struggle  with  my  pride  before  I  would 
consent  to  render  the  least  assistance  on  the  form,  but  reflec 


I  \ 


"lilljH 


illi^li 


jf)Pl 


88 


JiovGBma.iT  in  tee  bush. 


tion  convinced  me  that  I  was  wrong-that  Providence  had 
placed  me  m  a  situation  where  I  was  called  upon  to  work- 
that  It  was  not  only  my  duty  to  obey  that  call,  but  to  exert 
myself  to  the  utmost  to  assist  my  husband,  and  help  to  main- 
tarn  my  family. 

Ah,  glorious  poverty !  thou  art  a  hard  taskmaster,  but  in 
thy  soul-ennobling  school,  I  have  received  more  god-like  les- 
sons, have  learned  more  sublime  truths,  than  ever  I  acquired 
m  the  smooth  highways  of  the  world  !  The  independent  in 
soul  can  rise  above  the  seeming  disgrace  of  poverty,  and  hold 
fast  their  integrity,  in  defiance  of  the  world  and  its  selfish  and 
unwise  maxims  To  them,  no  labour  is  too  great,  no  trial  too 
severe;  they  will  unflinchingly  exert  every  faculty  of  mind 
and  body,  before  they  will  submit  to,  become  a  burden  to 
others. 

The  misfortunes  that  now  crowded  upon  us  were  the  result 
of  no  misconduct  or  extravagance  on  our  part,  but  arose  out 
of  circumstances  which  we  could  not  avert  nor  control.    Find- 
ing  too  late  th  >  error  into  which  we  had  fallen,  in  suffering 
ourselves  to  be  cajoled  and  plundered  out  of  our  property  bv 
mterested  speculators,  we  braced  our  minds  to  bear  the  worst 
and  determined  to  meet  our  difficulties  calmly  and  firmly  nor 
suffer  our  spirits  to  sink  under  calamities  which  energy'and 
industry  might  eventually  repair.     Having  once  come  to  this 
resolution,  we  cheerfully  shared  together  the  labours  of  the 
field.     One  in  heart  and  purpose,  we  dared  remain  true  to 
ourselves,  true  to  our  high  destiny  as  immortal  creatures  in 
our  conflict  with  temporal  and  physical  wants.     We  founa 
that  manual  toil,  however  distasteful  to  those  unaccustomed  to 
It,  was  not  after  all  such  a  dreadful  hardship;  that  the  wUder- 
ness  was  not  without  its  rose,  the  hard  face  of  poverty  without 
Its  smile.    If  we  occasionally  suffered  severe  pam,  we  as  o.aen 
experienced  great  pleasure,  and  I  have  contemplated  a  well. 


DISAPPOINTED  HOPES.  gS 

hoed  ridge  of  potatoes  on  that  bush  farm,  with  as  much  ^. 
l.ght  as  m  years  long  past  I  had  experien  ed  n  exl^'t 
fine  pamt.„g  in  some  welUppointed  drawing-ror^""^  " 

per  oHfTL      /"'  *'*  ""■"  *^'*«'"'-  «»•  that  long 

our  ^uZ.  T""  "''  """'^  ^""  «^  Wessings.     When 

our  situation  appeared  perfectly  desceratP  fT,o„ 

r:::r:;^ti^  --  -^  -  -- -:;• ":  r  o^:  oT 

yeatTsleTna  f;;;  "^  '™'  ^''^*^''  "'■  o"  '--  -^"""8  the 

^^Lrrixfsietrhid-—^ 

r:rn:er;itori:?e!-T;:-~^ 

two  Englishmen  in  Dumme    for  I         7'^  "  '"'S^  ^™  '° 
.ef.mOnrntterinl^;\tmt:S^^^^^ 

trc;:?yrierr::';::r„pt^^^^^^^^^^^  - 

pelied  to  rest  satisfied  upon  thl  pCduer,;;  heir's" 
bread  and  potatoes,  during  the  summer  became  orohief  id 
Often,  for  months,  our  only  farp      A=  f^  *-  /  ' 

were  luxuries  .e'wouM  l^'L^^^Z^l  'SlltZ 
tea  very  mueh;  we  rang  the  change  upon  peppe™  „t  »t 
^e  ta  ing  the  one  herb  at  our  breakL,  ^hTrrl 

ofVetnLi::.' "  """^■"  ^""'"'« '-  ""*  ■- «-  -' 

The  first  year  we  came  to  this  country  I  met  wifh  «>, 
count  of  dandelion  coifee,  pubUshed  in  ^I^nTt:^ ZZ, 


I       :Mf 


'  '  Wi 


90 


ROUGHING  IT  m  THE  BUSH. 


given  bj  a  Dr.  Harrison,  of  Edinburgh,  who  earnestly  recora- 
mended  it  as  an  article  of  general  use. 

"  It  possesses,"  he  says,  "  all  the  fine  flavour  and  exhila- 
rating  properties  of  coffee,  without  any  of  its  deleterious 
effects.  The  plant  being  of  a  soporific  nature,  the  coflTee  made 
from  it  when  drank  at  night  produces  a  tendency  to  sleep, 
instead  of  exciting  wakefulness,  and  may  be  safely  used  as  a 
cheap  and  wholesome  substitute  for  the  Arabian  berry,  being 
equal  in  substance  and  flavour  to  the  best  Mocha  coflTee." 

I  was  much  struck  with  this  paragraph  at  the  time,  and  for 
several  years  felt  a  great  inclination  to  try  the  Doctor's  coflfee ; 
but  something  or  other  always  came  in  the  way,  and  it  was 
put  off' till  another  opportunity.     During  the  fall  of  '35, 1  was 
assisting  my  husband  in  taking  up  a  crop  of  potatoes  in  the 
field,  and  observing  a  vast  number  of  fine  dandelion  roots 
among  the  potatoes,  it  brought  the  dandelion  coffee  back  to 
my  memory,  and  I  determined  to  try  some  for  our  supper. 
Without  saying  anything  to  my  husband,  I  threw  aside  some 
of  the  roots,  and  when  we  lefl  work,  collecting  a  sufficient 
quantity  for  the  experiment,  I  carefully  washed  the  roots  quite 
clean,  without  depriving  them  of  the  fine  brown  skin  which 
covers  them,  and  which  contains  the  aromatic  flavour,  wh^ch 
so  nearly  resembles  coflTee  that  it  is  difficult  to  distinguish  it 
from  it  while  roasting.     I  cut  my  roots  into  small  pieces,  the 
size  of  a  kidney-bean,  and  roasted  them  on  an  iron  baking-pan 
in  the  stove-oven,  until  they  were  as  brown  and  crisp  as  coflfee. 
I  then  ground  and  transferred  a  small  cupful  of  the  powder  to 
tlie  coffee-pot,  pouring  upon  it  scalding  water,  and  boiling  it 
for  a  few  minutes  briskly  over  the  fire.     The  result  was 
beyond  my  expectations.     The  coffee  proved  excellent— far 
superior  to  the  common  coffee  we  procured  at  the  stores. 

To  persons  residing  in  the  bush,  and  to  whom  tea  and 
coffee  are  very  expensive  articles  of  luxury,  the  knowledge  of 


M 


MSAPPOniTBD  BOPSS.  ^1 

flowers,  was  weak,  and  destitute  .eZ    T     .        '"'""''  ""^ 
peculiar  to  coffee.     The  time  of     .1  ""'  ''"°'""  "" 

is  the  best  suited  Jti    c^^^^lr";™!.'*'"^  ''°'""  ""P 
danddion;  and  as  thpv  .1  1         ^    "  ^^^  ""^'^^^  ^^  the 

-y  be  ac'co4.thK::c  re''"  ^r™?'-"'-  •">* 

keep  a  quantity  for  winter  ,.„  :         °^  **"  ■"■•••"'  'o 

and  dr/them  o'n  boardsil       s™'  T'  "'nT  ""  '"^  ^-'^' 
-d  can  be  roasted  when  re Jui'd'  '  ""  '"^  '°^  ^''^^"' 

whifhThifrgit;::  zrf"':,'  *'*  '"^  """-^  -  *» 

I  will  point  outt  ew  whrh?  ''^  P'"*  ■"'^^  "«  Wlied. 
vation,  convinced  si I^  that TheT  ""',7  "^  ""'"  "•'^- 
hardy  weed  with  it,  cZ     «  """  """'=  ^''•'n  ""is 

«hich  form  a^tant^"  !T""'  ™'  """"^  -'^'^-vessels, 

about  and  lu:urt!:*aS:s::at^   '"'*™  -""^ 

May,  wUl  be  transplanted  L  lu:^:2^''::r"' ^i 
-ad,  .uite  eqna.  to  endive,  andlt^  I^^  »  ^S- 

districtrw^'erH^louut: ''"'^'  '"'*^^'  P'''*'^"-'^  ^  »- 
spring,  and  boiLfwUh  p^I  7T  Vl  ""'  '^^'^  ■"  *« 
-.i^our  residence  .^  rb:hrS\t  --X 


f 


..^JSUm 


I'lf  I  ;fi 


92 


RouoEma  IT  m  the  bush. 


part  of  May,  a  great  addition  to  the  dinner-table.  In  the 
township  of  Dummer,  the  settlers  boil  the  tops,  and  add  hops 
to  the  liquor,  which  they  ferment,  and  from  which  they  obtain 
excellent  beer.  I  have  never  tasted  this  simple  beverage,  but 
I  have  been  told  by  those  who  use  it  that  it  is  equal  to  the 
table-beer  used  at  home. 

Necessity  has  truly  been  termed  the  mother  of  invention, 
for  I  contrived  to  manufacture  a  variety  of  dishes  almost 
out  of  nothing,  while  living  in  her  school.  When  entirely 
destitute  of  animal  food,  the  different  variety  of  squirrels  sup- 
plied us  with  pies,  stews,  and  roasts.  Our  barn  stood  at  the 
Up  of  the  hill  near  the  bush,  and  in  a  trap  set  for  such  "  small 
/jer,"  we  often  caught  from  ten  to  twelve  a-day. 

The  flesh  of  the  black  squirrel  is  equal  to  that  of  the  rabbit, 
and  the  red,  and  even  the  little  chissmunk,  is  palatable  when 
nicely  cooked.  But  from  the  lake,  during  the  summer,  we 
derived  the  larger  portion  of  our  food.  The  children  called 
this  piece  of  water  "  Mamma's  pantry,"  and  many  a  good 
meal  has  the  munificent  Father  given  to  his  poor  dependent 
children  from  its  well-stored  depths.  Moodie  and  I  used  to 
rise  by  daybreak,  and  fish  for  an  hour  after  sunrise,  when  we 
returned,  he  to  the  field,  and  I  to  dress  the  little  ones,  clean 
up  the  house,  assist  with  the  milk,  and  prepare  the  breakfast. 
Oh,  how  I  enjoyed  these  excursions  on  the  lake !  The  very 
idea  of  our  dinner  depending  upon  our  success,  added  double 
zest  to  our  sport. 

One  morning  we  started  as  usual  before  sunrise  ;  a  thick 
mist  still  hung  like  a  fine  veil  upon  the  water  when  we  pushed 
off,  and  anchored  at  our  accustomed  place.  Just  as  the  sun 
rose,  and  the  haze  parted  and  drew  up  like  a  golden  sheet  of 
transparent  gauze,  through  which  the  dark  woods  loomed  out 
like  giants,  a  noble  buck  dashed  into  the  water,  followed  by 
four  Indian  hounds. 


DISAPPOINTED  HOPES,  gg 

concealed  by  th    I     l?"^  '''f,  '""''  »■  «""  had  been 
exerting  a.lV,  enLy  '  ^    T        '  "^'■''  """  S''"^'  "Jo- 
matchless  gra.e  hi  bLI       7"""^  ""^  ™'^'  ^">  ^"«h 
broad  nostrils  dialed  a„;;tr'  '•="  P^""'^'^  ^'»'^.  •>- 
the  opposite  shortet:   XtLth'"'1  ^""^""^  ""- 
dogs  followed  hard  upon  hiM^ck  h  I  "^  f"^'  '^■"'  'l"^ 
for  joy  when,  in  spite'^o^  alh  rfoe,  h  "^  ™'^  ""'"^  '^"^^'^ 
the  opposite  bank  and  he  p^^ated  he  1^  '""^  """"'  '^""'^ 
My  beloved  oartnl         ^  ""§ """  'he  forest. 

andnfuskinong?  HtrhT"  ''T  "  '^""'"^  '"-''- 
die,  and  the  .fotion"^;  ^  o/^l'^Z'  'b  '"^  ^'''- 
i^e  queer-IookW  mice  and  rlr«„.    I      .^'^"^^  vibration  to 

from  squirrel  A  ors^l^Td^tL' 1^'"^^'"^ 
finny  wanderers  of  the  wave  ^       **"?'  ""e 

andT^e^S a^et  '^ ctnt^  1^  ^ ■  ■='««  ^-e 
any  promising  fishing  snot  blf  !    • '  ""^  '^"^"""•^  '''     • 

Pieee  of  rope'and  "eftirit  a^roptt^^TT r""  *"  "^     ' 
vessel.     By  the  time  she  was  Tve"„M       1-";'  "'"^ 
maid  could  both  steer  and  n^^I     i   ,    .     '  "^  '""^  ">er. 
small  fish,  which  weTe  n^f LJ  ''S'''  ™-'.  -^  oat^h 

ue''r:rari;t  pi!^c:r  Tt '"-"^™«- 

barn  a  fine  young  buU  we  wer!  ^^^'  '''■''™  fr""  ^e 

all  trace  of^he  ital  IrCrw!' 1"^ 'T  "^"^' "^^''^ 
the  existence  of  poor  WhTjT'  ,,        ^  ''''"°''  '''"■S°tten 

toM  Moodie  that^i  7^S':^vsz::r:i' 

«ved  only  a  mUe  funhe  .hl^ed  "  Lt  "  "^  ^'•""''^ 
-e  enough,  he  found  ^.  l.T^r'" ^^ l^'^^^ 


>  r 


f», 


04 


BOUQHINO  IT  IN  TEE  BUSIT. 


.«    : 


Mll^ 


difficulty  he  succeeded  in  regaining  his  property,  but  not  with- 
out many  threats  of  vengeance  from  the  parties  who  had 
stolen  it.  To  these  he  paid  no  regard  ;  but  a  few  days  after, 
six  fat  hogs,  on  which  we  depended  for  all  our  winter  store 
of  animal  food,  were  driven  into  the  lake,  and  destroyed.  The 
death  of  these  animals  deprived  us  of  three  barrels  of  pork, 
and  half  starved  us  through  the  winter.  That  winter  of  '36, 
how  heavily  it  wore  away  !  The  grown  flour,  frosted  pota- 
toes, and  scant  quantity  of  animal  food  rendered  us  all  weak, 
and  the  children  suffered  much  from  the  ague. 

One  day,  just  before  the  snow  fell,  Moodie  uad  gone  to 
Peterborough  for  letters ;  our  servant  was  sick  in  I  sd  with 
the  ague,  and  I  was  nursing  my  little  boy,  Dunbar,  who  was 
shaking  with  the  cold  fit  of  his  miserable  fever,  when  Jacob 
put  his  honest,  round,  rosy  face  in  at  the  door. 

"  Give  me  the  master's  gun,  ma'am ;  there's  a  big  "^nck 
feeding  on  the  rice-bed  near  the  island." 

I  took  down  the  gun,  saying,  "Jacob,  you  have  no  chance; 
there  is  but  one  charge  of  buck-shot  in  the  house." 

"  One  chance  is  better  nor  none,"  said  Jacob,  as  he  com- 
menced loading  the  gun.  "  Who  knows  what  may  happen  to 
oie.  Mayhap  oie  may  chance  to  kill  'un ;  and  you  and  the 
measter  and  the  wee  bairns  may  have  zummut  zavory  for 
zupper  yet." 

Away  walked  Jacob  with  Hoodie's  "Manton"  over  his 
shoulder.  A  few  minutes  after,  I  heard  the  report  of  the 
gun,  but  never  expected  to  see  anything  of  the  game ;  when 
Jacob  suddenly  bounced  into  the  room,  half  wild  with  delight. 

"  Thae  beast  iz  dead  az  a  door-nail.  Zure,  how  the  meas- 
ter will  laugh  when  he  zees  the  fine  buck  that  oie  a'  zhot." 

"  And  have  you  really  shot  him  1" 

"  Come  and  zee  !  'Tis  worth  your  while  to  walk  down  to 
the  landing  to  look  at  'un." 


1 


DISAPPOINTED  HOPES.  gj 

Jacob  got  a  rope,  and  I  followed  him  to  the  landing,  where 
Bure  enough,  lay  a  fine  buck,  fastened  i„  tow  of  the  ^2 

'S'  ot  ■;;::  rriiir 'tirL't  ~i '- 
:trh:t""dr  ^-  -^S  iTa::^^: 

we  to  have ;  and  the  good  fellow  chuckled  with  deli^hl 
his  W::?  :  ;r  ^^  "^-^'.^  ^'-  -  "-^  ^'-hen  doot  I 

opene^the  doo.  he  struck  hi  heal a^l^It  the^dll  dfe^ 
What  have  you  got  here  ?" 

"  A  fine  one,  indeed  !     How  did  we  come  by  it  «•• 
son  o   Z:':'  X"'-^'"  -^J-^  Ebbing  h'ia  hands  in  a 
life.     He Th/l  he !"       '''"'  "  ""^ ''"'  "'^  ^™'  ^"^  -  "^ 

"You  shot  that  fine  deer,  Jacob  ?-and  there  was  only  one 
charge  m  the  gun  -     Well  done ;  you  must  have  taken  a  good 

"  Why,  zur,  iie  took  no  aim  at  all.  Oie  just  pointed  the 
gnn  at  the  deer,  and  zhut  my  oeys  an  let  fly  at  'un  " 
Providence  kill'd  'un,  not  oie."  J'    <•  m.      iwas 

"I  believe  you,"  said  Moodie ;  " Providence  has  hitherto 
watched  over  us  and  kept  us  from  actual  starvation  " 

to  !?,':  %  °^  *'  '^'"'  """  "■°  e°°^  ^'"'^  *"«  I  ™s  able 
to  obtam  from  .t,  greatly  assisted  in  restoring  our  sick  to 

health;  but  long  before  that  severe  winter  termin.    Jw" 

were  aga,n  out  of  food      Mrs had  given  to  Ka'tie,  in 

the  fall,  a  very  pretty  little  pig,  which  she  had  named  s;ot. 

The  ammal  was  a  great  favourite  with  Jacob  and  the  children 


.1   ■      t 
'I 


mi 


pTTh 


90 


jiouGUiNa  IT  m  TUB  Bum. 


'I  i 


^w 


h      J 


and  he  always  received  his  food  from  their  hands  at  the  door, 
and  followed  them  all  over  the  place  like  a  dog.  We  had  a 
noble  hound  called  Hector,  between  whom  and  the  pet  pig 
there  existed  the  most  tender  friendship.  Spot  always  shared 
with  Hector  the  hollow  log  which  served  him  for  a  kennel, 
and  we  often  laughed  to  see  Hector  lead  Spot  round  the 
clearing  by  his  ear.  After  bearing  the  want  of  animal  food 
until  our  souls  sickened  at  the  bad  potatoes  and  grown  flour 
bread,  we  began — that  is  the  eldest  of  the  family — to  cast 
very  hungry  eyes  upon  Spot ;  but  no  one  liked  to  propose 
having  him  killed.  At  last  Jacob  spoke  his  mind  upon  the 
subject. 

"  Oi've  heard,  zur,  that  the  Jews  never  eat  pork  ;  but  we 
Christians  dooz,  and  are  right  glad  ov  the  chance.  Now,  zur, 
oi've  been  thinking  that  'tis  no  manner  ov  use  our  keeping 
that  beast  Spot.  If  he  wor  a  zow,  now,  there  might  be  zome 
zerize  in  the  thing ;  and  we  all  feel  weak  for  a  morzel  of  i^cat. 
S'poze  I  kill  him  ?     He  won't  make  a  bad  piece  of  pork." 

Moodie  seconded  the  move ;  and,  in  spite  of  the  tears  and 
prayers  of  Katie,  her  uncouth  pet  was  sacrificed  to  the  gen- 
eral wants  of  the  family ;  but  there  were  two  members  of  the 
house  who  disdained  to  eat  a  morsel  of  the  victim ;  poor  Katie 
and  the  dog  Hector.  At  the  self-denial  of  the  first  I  did  not 
at  all  wonder,  for  she  was  a  child  ftill  of  sensibility  and  warm 
affections,  but  the  attachment  of  the  brute  creature  to  his  old 
playmate  filled  us  all  with  surprise.  Jacob  first  drew  our 
attention  to  the  strange  fact. 

"That  dog,"  he  said,  as  we  were  passing  through  the 
kitchen  while  he  was  at  dinner,  "  do  teach  uz  Christians  a 
lesson  how  to  treat  our  friends.  Why,  zur,  he'll  not  eat  a 
morzel  of  Spot.  Oie  have  tried  and  tempted  him  in  all  man- 
ner ov  ways,  and  he  only  do  zneer  and  turn  up  his  nose  when 
oie  hould  him  a  bit  to  taste."    He  offered  the  animal  .a  rib 


Ml 


DISAPPOWTED  noPElS. 


9T 


the  door, 
^0  had  a 
)  pet  pig 
ys  shared 
a  kennel, 
ound  the 
inal  food 
3wn  flour 
—to  cast 
propose 
upon  the 

;  hut  we 
^ow,  zur, 
[•  keeping 
bp  zome 
of  iViCat, 
ork." 
tears  and 
•  the  gen- 
era of  the 
jor  Katie 
I  did  not 
nd  warm 
;o  his  old 
irew  our 

ough  the 
istians  a 
lot  eat  a 
all  man- 
Dse  when 
nal.a  rib 


of  the  fresh  pork  as  he  finished  speaking,  and  the  dog  tumod 
away  with  an  expression  of  aversion,  and  on  a  repetition  of 
the  act,  walked  from  the  table.  Human  affection  could 
scarcely  have  surpassed  the  love  felt  by  this  poor  animal  for 
his  playfellow.  His  attachment  to  Spot,  that  could  overcome 
the  pangs  of  hunger-for,  like  the  rest  of  us,  he  was  half 
starved— must  have  been  strong  indeed. 

Jacob's  attachment  to  us,  in  its  simplicity  and  fidelity 
greatly  resembled  that  of  the  dog ;  and  sometimes,  like  the 
dog,  ho  would  push  himself  in  where  he  was  not  wanted  and 
gratuitously  give  his  advice,  and  make  remarks  which  were 
not  required. 

^  Mr.  K ,  from  Cork,  was  asking  Moodie  many  ques- 
tions about  the  partridges  of  the  country;  and,  among  other 
things,  he  wanted  to  know  by  what  token  you  were  able  to 
discover  their  favourite  haunts.  Before  Moodie  could  answer 
this  last  query  a  voice  responded,  through  a  large  crack  in  the 
boarded  wall  which  separated  us  from  the  kitchen,  "They  al 
^^ay8  bides  where  they's  drum."  This  amiouncement  was 
received  with  a  burst  of  laughter  that  greatly  disconcerted  the 
natural  phlosopher  in  the  kitchen. 

On  the  21st  of  May  of  this  year,  my  second  son,  Donald 
was  bora.  The  poor  fellow  came  in  hard  times.  The  cows 
had  not  calved,  and  our  bill  of  fare,  now  minus  the  deer  and 
Spot,  only  consisted  of  bad  potatoes  and  stOl  worse  bread.  I 
was  rendered  so  weak  by  want  of  proper  nourishment  that  my 
dear  husband,  for  my  sake,  overcame  his  aversion  to  borrow- 
ing, and  procured  a  quarter  of  mutton  from  a  friend.  This, 
with  kindly  presents  from  neighbours— often  as  badly  off  as 
ourselves— a  loin  of  a  young  bear,  and  a  basket,  containing  a 
loaf  of  bread,  some  tea,  some  fresh  butter,  and  oatmeal,  went 
far  to  save  my  Ufe. 

Shortly  after  my  recovery,  Jacob— the  faithfid,  good  Jacob 

VOL.  II.  K 


m 


m 


[I^ 


i«i  ^^"i 


•M 


I 


98 


nouGniNG  IT  jy  the  bustt. 


— was  obliged  to  leave  us,  for  we  could  no  longer  afK^rd  to 
pay  wages.  What  was  owing  to  him  had  to  be  settled  by 
sacrificing  our  best  cow,  and  a  great*  many  valuable  articles 
of  clo^iing  from  my  husband's  wardrobe.  Nothing  is  more 
distressing  than  being  obliged  to  part  with  articles  of  dress 
which  you  know  that  you  cannot  replace.  Almost  all  my 
clothes  had  been  appropriated  to  the  payment  of  wages,  or  to 
obtain  garments  for  the  children,  excepting  my  wedding-dress, 
and  the  beautiful  baby-linen  which  had  been  made  by  the 
hands  of  dear  and  aflfcctionate  friends  for  my  first-born.  These 
were  now  exchanged  for  coarse,  warm  flannels,  to  shield  her 
from  the  cold.  Moodie  and  Jacob  had  chopped  eight  acres 
during  the  winter,  but  these  had  to  be  burnt  off  and  logged- 
up  before  we  could  put  in  a  crop  of  wheat  for  the  ensuing  fall. 
Had  we  been  able  to  retain  this  industrious,  kindly  English 
lad,  this  would  have  been  soon  accomplished  ;  but  his  wages, 
at  the  rate  of  thirty  pounds  per  annum,  were  now  utterly  be- 
yond our  means. 

Jacob  had  formed  an  attachment  to  my  pretty  maid,  Mary 
Pine,  and  before  going  to  the  Southern  States,  to  join  an  uncle 
who  resided  in  Louisville,  an  opulent  tradesman,  who  had 
promised  to  teach  him  his  business,  Jacob  thought  it  as  well 
to  declare  himself.  The  declaration  took  place  on  a  loa  of 
wood  near  the  back  door,  and  from  my  chamber  window  I 
could  both  hear  and  see  the  parties,  without  being  myself  ob- 
served. Mary  was  seated  very  demurely  at  one  end  of  the 
log,  twisting  the  strings  of  her  checked  apron,  and  the  loving 
Jacob  was  busily  whittling  the  other  extremity  of  their  rustic 
seat.  There  was  a  long  silence.  Mary  stole  a  look  at  Jacob, 
and  he  heaved  a  tremendous  sigh,  something  between  a  yawTi 
and  a  groan.     "  Meary,"  he  said,  "  I  must  go." 

"  I  knew  that  afore,"  returned  the  girl. 

"  I  had  zummat  to  zay  to  you,  Meary.    Do  you  think  you 


LIS 


;er  afK^rd  to 
0  settled  by 
able  articles 
ling  is  more 
les  of  dress 
nost  all  my 
wages,  or  to 
idding.dress, 
lade  by  the 
born.  These 
0  shield  her 
eight  acres 
and  logged- 
ensuing  full, 
idly  English 
it  his  wages, 
^  utterly  be- 

maid,  Mary 
3in  an  uncle 
n,  who  had 
it  it  as  well 
on  a  log  of 
jr  window  I 
'  myself  ob- 

end  of  the 
i  the  loving 

their  rustic 
•k  at  Jacob, 
een  a  yawn 


n  think  you 


will 


'  r  (look 


A.PPOINTF.D  JIOP£S. 
very  afTectionately, 


99 


miss 
nearer.) 

very  ImX'^"'  '"'^  '^"^  '"''  '"^'''    """  ^''  '^'' 

^.l^^^'^^''  ''''^^''  ^^'''^'  ''^"^  y^"^  ^«^^'"g«  "^'ffht  be 
zummat  loiko  my  own.     I  feel  zoro  about  the  heart,  Mearv 

^d  .t's  all  .cm'  of  parting  with  you.    Don't  you  feel  ^ueeS,' 

"Can't  .say  that  I  do,  Jacob.     I  shall  soon  see  you  again  » 
(pullmg  violently  at  her  apron-string.)  ^     ' 

"Meary,  oi'm  afeard  you  don't  feel  like  oie." 

"  P'r'aps  not-women  can't  feel  like  men.     I'm  sorry  that 
you  are  going,  Jacob,  for  you  have  been  very  kind  and  obii 
ging,  and  I  wish  you  well.'» 

"Meary,"  cried  Jacob,  growing  desperate  at  her  coyness 
and  gettmg  quite  clos.  up  to  her,  "will  you  marry  oie?  Say' 
yeez  or  noa. "  •>  J        ^    »^»y 

TTiis  was  coming  close  to  the  point.  Mary  drew  farther 
from  him,  and  turned  her  head  away. 

"  Mcary,"  said  Jacob,  seizing  upon  the  hand  that  held 
the  apron-string,  "  do  you  thuik  you  can  better  yoursel'  ^  If 
not-why,  oie  m  your  man.  Now,  do  just  turn  about  your 
head  and  answer  oie."  ^ 

The  girl  turned  round,  and  gave  him  a  quick,  shy  glance 
then  burst  out  into  a  simpering  laugh.  ' 

"Meary,  will  you  take  oie?"  (jogging  her  elbow.) 
^        will     cried  the  girl,  jumping  up  from  the  log,  and  run- 
ning into  the  house.  ^' 

"Well,  that  bargain's  made,"  said  the  lover,  rubbing  his 
hands;  "and now,  oie'll  go  and  bid  measter  and  missus  good- 

The  poor  fellow's  eyes  were  full  of  tears,  for  the  child'-en 
who  loved  him  very  much,  clung,  crying,  about  his  knees.' 


jl 


"  1 


100 


j^ouanma  it  in  the  mush. 


ft 


"God  bless  yees  all,"  sobbed  the  kind-hearted  creature. 
"Doan't  forget  Jacob,  for  he'll  neaver  forget  you.  Good- 
buoy  !" 

Then  turning  to  Mary,  he  threw  his  arms  round  her  neck, 
and  bestowed  upon  her  fair  cheek  the  most  audible  kiss  I 
ever  heard. 

"And  doan't  you  forget  me,  Meary.  In  two  years  oie 
will  be  back  to  marry  you ;  and  maybe  oie  may  come  back 
a  rich  man." 

Mary,  who  was  an  exceedingly  pretty  girl,  shed  some  tears 
at  the  parting ;  but  in  a  few  days  she  was  as  gay  as  ever,  and 
listening  with  great  attention  to  the  praises  oestowed  upon  her 
beauty  by  an  old  bachelor,  who  was  her  senior  by  five-and- 
twenty  years.  But  then  he  had  a  good  farm,  a  saddle  mare, 
and  plenty  of  stock,  and  was  reputed  to  have  saved  money. 
The  saddle  mare  seemed  to  have  great  weight  in  old  Ralph 

T h's  wooing ;  and  I  use     laughingly  to  remind  Mary  of 

her  absent  lover,  and  beg  her  not  to  marry  Ralph  T h's 

mare. 


5d    creature, 
y^ou.     Good- 


THE  LITTLE  STUMPY  MAN. 


101 


nd  her  neck, 
dible  kiss  I 

0  years  oie 
^  come  back 

i  some  tears 
as  ever,  and 
red  upon  her 
by  five-and- 
addle  mare, 
ived  money. 

1  old  Ralph 
nd  Mary  of 
3h  T h's 


CHAPTEE  YII. 

THE    LITTLE    STUMPY    MAN. 

"DEFORE  I  dismiss  for  ever  the  t^ubles  and  sorrows  of 
^  183G,  I  would  fain  introduce  to  the  notice  of  my  readers 
some  of  the  odd  characters  with  whom  we  became  acquainted 
durmg  that  period.  Tlie  first  that  starts  vividly  to  my  recol, 
lection  is  the  picture  of  a  short,  stumpy,  thick-set  man-a 
British  sailor,  too—who  came  to  stay  one  night  under  our 
roof,  and  took  quiet  possession  of  his  quarters  for  nine 
months,  and  whom  we  were  obliged  to  tolerate  from  the 
simple  fact  that  we  could  not  get  rid  of  him. 

During  the  fall,  Moodle  had  met  this  individual  (whom  I 
will  call  Mr.  Malcolm)  in  the  maU-coach,  going  up  to  Toronto. 
Amused  with  his  eccentric  and  blunt  manners,  and  finding 
him  a  shrewd,  clever  fellow  in  conversation,  Moodie  told  him 
that  if  ever  he  came  into  his  part  of  the  world  he  should  be 
glad  to  renew  their  acquaintance.  And  so  they  parted,  with 
mutual  good-will,  as  men  often  part  who  have  travelled  a  long 
journey  in  good  fellowship  together,  without  thinking  it  prob- 
able  they  should  ever  meet  agam. 

The  sugar  season  had  just  commenced  with  the  spring 
thaw;  Jacob  had  tapped  a  few  trees  in  order  to  obtain  sap 
to  make  molasses  for  the  children,  when  his  plans  were  frus- 
trated  by  the  illness  of  my  husband,  who  was  again  attacked 
with  the  ague.  Towards  the  close  of  a  wet,  sloppy  night, 
while  Jaco  J  was  in  the  wood,  chopping,  and  oux  servant  gone 


m 


\ 

1 

*;  ^^B 

It  t'.    i  kit  ■ 

I  % 

I'         '■ 


f 

i  ^ 

'■f  ' 

Wn.J 

m 

■B^Hi         '  '-jj 

1 
i    . 

102 

to  n 


Rouonma  it  in  the  bush. 

who  was  ill.  to  hftln  to  wn«ili 


y  sister, 

baking  bread  for  tea,  my  attention  was  aroused  by  a  violent 
knocking  at  the  door,  and  the  furious  barkiiig  of  our  dog, 
Hector.  I  ran  to  open  it,  when  I  found  Hector's  teeth 
clenched  in  the  trowsers  of  a  little,  dark,  thick-set  man,  who 
said  in  a  gruff  voice, 

"  Call  off  your  dog.  What  the  dAyil  do  you  keep  such  an 
infernal  brute  about  the  house  fo.- 1  Is  it  to  bite  people  who 
come  to  see  you  V 

Hector  was  the  best-behaved,  best-tempered  animal  in  the 
world  ;  he  might  have  been  called  a  gentlemanly  dog.  So 
little  was  there  of  the  unmannerly  puppy  in  his  behaviour, 
that  I  was  perfectly  astonished  at  his  ungracious  conduct.  I 
caught  him  by  the  collar,  and  not  without  some  difficulty, 
succeeded  m  dragging  him  off. 

"  Is  Captain  Moodie  within  ?"  said  the  stranger. 
"  He  is,  sir.     But  he  is  ill  in  bed— too  ill  to  be  seen." 
"Tell  him  a  friend,"  (he  laid  a  strong  stress  upon  the  last 
word,)  "  a  particular  friend  must  speak  to  him." 

I  now  turned  my  eyes  to  the  face  of  the  speaker  with  some 
curiosity.  I  had  taken  him  for  a  mechanic,  from  his  dirty, 
slovenly  appearance;  and  his  physiognomy  was  so  unpleasant 
that  I  did  not  credit  his  assertion  that  he  was  a  friend  of  my 
husband,  for  I  was  certain  that  no  man  who  possessed  such  a 
forbidding  aspect  could  be  regarded  by  Moodie  as  a  friend. 
I  was  about  to  deliver  his  message,  but  the  moment  I  let  go 
Hector's  collar,  the  dog  was  at  him  again. 

"Don't  strike  him  with  your  stick,"  I  cried,  throwing  my 
arms  over  the  faithful  creature.  "  He  is  a  powerful  animal, 
and  if  you  provoke  him,  he  will  kill  you." 

I  at  last  succeeded  in  coaxing  Hector  into  the  girl's  room, 
where  I  shut  him  up,  while  the  stranger  came  into  the  kitchen,' 
and  walked  to  the  fire  to  dry  his  wet  clothes. 


m 


m 


THE  LITTLE  STUMP  T  MAN. 


103 


was  busy 
y  a  violent 
f  our  dog, 
:or's   teeth 

man,  who 

ep  such  an 
leople  who 


mal  in  tho 

dog.     So 

behaviour, 

onduct.     I 

difficulty, 


)) 


leen. 

•n  the  last 

iV'ith  some 
his  dirty, 
inpleasant 
nd  of  my 
jd  such  a 
3  a  friend, 
it  I  let  go 

)wing  my 
il  animal, 

I's  room, 
J  kitchen, 


I  .mmod,a  ely  went  into  the  parlour,  where  MooJio  was 
lying  upon  a  bed  near  the  stove,  to  deliver  the  stranc-er's  mes- 
sage;  but  before  I  eould  say  a  wor,,,  he  dashed  in  after  me 
and  g„n,g  up  to  the  bed  held  out  his  broad,  eoarse  hand,  with,' 
How  are  you,  Mr.  Moodie.  You  see  I  have  aceepted  you; 
k.nd  „tv,tat,on  sooner  than  either  you  or  I  expeeted.  If  you 
W.I  lg,ve  me  house-room  for  the  night  I  shall  be  obliged  to 

This  was  said  in  a  low,  mysterious  voice:  and  Moodie, 

who  was  st.ll  struggling  with  the  hot  fit  of  his  disorder,  and 

whose  senses  were  not  a  little  confused,  stared  at  him  with  a 

•  look  of  vague  bewilderment.     The  countenance  of  the  stranger 

grew  dark.  *= 

II  You  cannot  have  forgotten  me-my  name  is  Malcolm." 
les  yes;  I  remember  you  now,"  said  the  invalid,  holding 
out  h.s  bunung,  f.verish  hand.     To  my  home,  such  as  it  is 
you  are  welcome."  ' 

I  stood  by  in  wondering  astonishment,  looking  from  one 
to  the  other,  as  1  had  no  recollection  of  ever  hearing  my  bus- 
band  mention  the  name  of  the  stranger ;  but  as  he  had  invited 
h.m  to  .hare  our  hospitality,  I  did  my  best  to  make  him  wel- 
con,e,  though  in  what  manner  he  was  to  be  accommodated 
puzzled  me  not  a  little.  I  placed  the  arm-chair  by  the  fire 
and  told  him  that  1  would  prepare  tea  for  him  as  soon  as  I 
could. 

"It  may  be  as  well  to  tell  you,  Mrs.  Moodie,"  said  he 
sulk.ly,  for  he  was  evidently  displeased  by  my  husband's  want 
of  recognition  on  his  first  entrance,  "that  I  have  had  no 
dinner." 

I  sighed  to  myself,  for  I  well  knew  that  our  larder  boasted 
of  no  dainties  ;  and  from  the  animal  expression  of  our  guest^s 
face,  I  rightly  judged  that  he  was  fond  of  good  living 

By  the  time  I  had  fried  a  rasher  of  salt  pork,  and  made  a 


T 

^^IH 

PP'  "^ 

^^H 

^^^H 

104 


EOVGEING  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


^       ij 


Ilii 
151 


\\\ 


Mii< 


pot  of  dandelion  coffee,  the  bread  I  had  been  preparing  was 
baked  ;  but  grown  flour  will  not  make  light  bread,  and  it  was 
unusually  heavy.     For  the  first  time  I  felt  heartily  ashamed 
of  our  humble  fare.     I  was  sure  that  he  for  whom  it  was  pro- 
vided was  not  one  to  pass  it  over  in  benevolent  silence.     "  He 
might  be  a  gentleman,"  I  thought,  "  but  he  does  not  look  like 
one ;"  and  a  confused  idea  of  who  he  was,  and  where  Moodie 
had  met  with  him,  began  to  float  through  my  mind.     I  did 
not  like  the  appearance  of  the  man,  but  I  consoled  myself  that 
he  was  only  to  stay  for  one  night,  and  I  could  give  up  my  bed 
for  that  one  night,  and  sleep  on  a  bed  on  the  floor  by  my  sick 
husband.     When  I  re-ent6red  the  parlour  to  cover  the  table, 
I  found  Moodie  fallen  asleep,  and  Mr.  Malcolm  reading.     As 
I  placed  the  tea-things  on  the  table,  he  raised  his  head,  and 
regarded  me  with  a  gloomy  stare.     He  was  a  strange-looking 
creature ;  his  features  were  tolerably  regular,  his  complexion 
dark,  with  a  good  colour,  his  very  broad  and  round  head  was 
covered  with  a  perfect  mass  of  close,  black,  curling  hair,  which, 
in  growth,  texture,  and  hue,  resembled  the  wiry,  curly  hide 
of  a  water-dog.     His  eyes  and  mouth  were  both  well-shaped, 
bvt  gave,  by  their  sinister  expression,  an  odious  and  doubtful 
meaning  to  the  whole  of  his  physiognomy.    The  eyes  were 
cold,  insolent,  and  cruel,  and  as  green  as  the  eyes  of  a  cat. 
The  mouth  bespoke  a  sullen,  determined,  and  sneering  dispo- 
sition, as  if  it  belonged  to  one  brutally  obstinate,  one  who 
could  not  by  any  gentle  means  be  persuaded  from  his  pur- 
pose.    Such  a  man  in  a  passion  would  have  been  a  terrible 
wild  beast ;  but  the  current  of  his  feelings  seemed  to  flow  in 
a  deep  sluggish  channel,  rather  than  m  a  violent  or  impetuous 
one  ;  and,  like  William  Penn,  when  he  reconnoitred  his  unwel- 
come visitors  through  the  keyhole  of  the  door,  I  looked  at  my 
strange  guest,  and  liked  him  not.    Perhaps  my  distant  and  con- 
strained  manner  made  him  painfully  aware  of  the  fact,  for  I  am 


lirF; 


panng  -was 
and  it  was 
y  ashamed 
it  was  pro- 
nce.  "  He 
)t  look  like 
sre  Moodie 
nd.  I  did 
nyself  that 
up  my  bed 
by  my  sick 
•  the  table, 
iding.     As 

head,  and 
ige-looking 
omplexion 
I  head  was 
lair,  which, 
curly  hide 
ell-shaped, 
i  doubtful 
eyes  were 

of  a  cat. 
ing  dispo- 
,  one  who 
1  his  pur- 
a  terrible 
to  flow  in 
mpetuous 
his  unwel- 
:ed  at  my 
t  and  con- 
;,  for  I  am 


m£  LITTLE  STUMPY  MAN.  105 

certain  that  from  that  first  hour  of  our  acquaintance,  a  deep, 
rooted  an  .pathy  existed  between  us,  wLh  time  seemed 
rather  to  strengthen  than  diminish. 

He  ate  of  his  meal  sparingly,  and  with  evident  disgust :  the 
only  remarks  which  dropped  from  him  were  • 

"You  make  bad  bread  in  the  bush.  Strange,  that  you  can't 
keep  your  potatoes  from  the  frost !     I  should  have  thought 

1117  ^'"^  '^^^  "^''^  ^^^f^^^We  in  the 

M  1  ^'  ^^^  r ''''  '"'^  unfortunate,"  I  said,  "  since  we  came 

o  the  woods.    I  am  sorry  that  you  should  be  obliged  to  share 

the  poverty  of  the  land.     It  would  have  given  me  much 

pleasure  could  I  have  set  before  you  a  more  comfor^He 

toes  I  shall  be  contented."  ^ 

T  hnTli^'w  t'*^'''  ^"""^^  '"^^^y  ^-""  ^'^^^^^^^^  ^^  his  visit  ? 

1  hoped  that  I  was  mistaken ;  but  before  I  could  lose  any  time 

•m  conjecture  my  husband  awoke.     The  fit  had  left  him,  and 

he  rose  and  dressed  himself,  and  was  soon  chatting  cheerfully 

with  his  guest.  ^ 

Mr.  Malcolm  now  informed  him  that  he  was  hiding  from 

the  sheriff-of  the  N district's  off^icers,  and  that  itlould 

be  confemng  upon  him  a  great  favour  if  he  would  allow  him 
to  remam  at  his  house  for  a  few  weeks. 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Malcolm,"  said  Moodie,  «  we  are 
so  bad  y  oflf  that  we  can  scarcely  find  food  for  ourselves  and 
the  children.  It  is  out  of  our  power  to  make  you  comfortable 
or  to  keep  an  additional  hand,  without  he  is  willing  to  render 
some  little  help  on  the  farm.  If  you  can  do  this,  I  will  en- 
deavour to  get  a  few  necessaries  on  credit,  to  make  your  stay 
more  agreeable."  ^  ^ 

To  this  proposition  Malcolm  readily  absented,  not  only 

VOL.  II.  K*  'J 


"""""■•"tWBrirmi 


r 

i    ■ 


If '    ' 


J         M  -  I 


lii    i 

7/  ' 


i   ! 


106  ROUGnmO  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 

because  ;t  released  him  from  all  sense  of  obligation,  but  be- 
cause  it  gave  him  a  privilege  to  grumble. 

Finding  that  his  stay  might  extend  to  an  indefinite  period, 
I  got  Jacob  to  construct  a  rude  bedstead  out  of  two  large 
chests  that  had  transported  some  of  our  goods  across  the  At- 
lantic, and  which  he  put  up  in  a  corner  of  the  parlour.  This 
I  provided  with  a  small  hair-mattress,  and  furnished  with  what 
bedding  I  could  spare. 

For  the  first  fortnight  of  his  sojourn,  our  guest  did  nothing 
but  lie  upon  that  bed,  and  read,  and  smoke,  and  drink  whis- 
key and  water  from  morning  until  night.  By  degrees  he  let 
out  part  of  his  history ;  but  there  was  a  mystery  about  him 
which  he  took  good  care  never  to  clear  up.  He  was  the  son 
of  ar  ;  ^cer  in  the  navy,  who  had  not  only  attained  a  very 
high  rank  in  the  service,  but,  for  his  gallant  conduct,  had  been 
made  a  Knight-Companion  of  the  Bath. 

He  had  himself  served  his  time  as  a  midshipman  on  board 
his  father's  flag-ship,  but  had  left  the  navy  and  accepted  a 
commission  in  the  Buenos-Ayrean  service  during  the  political 
struggles  in  that  province  ;  he  had  commanded  a  sort  of  pri- 
vateer mider  the  government,  to  whom,  by  his  own  account, 
he  had  rendered  many  very  signal  services.     Why  he  left 
South  America  and  came  to  Canada  he  kept  a  profound  secret. 
He  had  indulged  in  very  vicious  and  dissipated  courses  since 
he  came  to  the  province,  and  by  his  own  account  had  spent 
upwards  of  four  thousand  pounds,  in  a  manner  not  over  cred- 
itable to  himself.     Finding  that  his  friends  would  answer  his 
bills  no  longer,  he  took  possession  of  a  grant  of  larvd  obtained 
through  his  father's  interest,  up  in  Hersey,  a  barren  township 
on  the  shores  of  Stony  Lake ;  and,  after  putting  up  his  shanty, 
and  expending  all  his  remaining  means,  he  found  that  he  did 
not  possess  one  acre  out  of  the  whole  four  hundred  that  would 
yield  a  crop  of  potatoes.     He  was  now  considerably  in  debt, 


1 


$N 


THE  LITTLE  STUMPY  MAN. 


ri,  but  be- 

ite  period, 
two  large 
ss  the  At- 
mr.  This 
with  whjit 


Id  nothing 
rink  whis- 
ies  he  let 
bout  him 
s  the  son 
ed  a  very- 
had  been 

on  board 
3cepted  a 
3  political 
Tt  of  pri- 
i  account, 
y  he  left 
id  secret. 
ses  since 
ad  spent 
ver  cred- 
iswer  his 
obtained 
township 
s  shanty, 
it  he  did 
at  would 

in  debt, 


107 


and  the  lands,  such  as  they  were,  had  been  seized,  with  all  his 
effects,  by  the  sheriff,  and  a  warrant  was  out  for  his  own  ap- 
prehension,  which  he  contrived  to  elude  during  his  sojourn 
with  us.     Money  he  had  none ;  and,  beyond  the  dirty  fear- 
nought  blue  seaman's  jacket  which  he  wore,  a  pair  of  trowsers 
of  the  coarse  cloth  of  the  country,  an  old  black  vest  that  had 
seen  better  days,  and  two  blue-checked  shirts,  clothes  he  had 
none.     He  shaved  but  once  a  week,  never  combed  his  hair 
and  never  washed  himself.     A  dirtier  or  more  slovenly  crej 
ture  never  before  was  dignified  by  the  title  of  a  gentleman. 
He  was,  however,  a  man  of  good   education,  of  excellent 
abilities,  and  possessed  a  bitter,  sarcastic  knowledge  of  the 
world ;   but  he  was  selfish  and  unprmcipled  in  the  highest 
degree. 

His  shrewd  observations  and  great  conversational  powers 
had  first  attracted  my  husband's  attention,  and,  as  men  seldom 
show  the-  ■  bad  qualities  on  a  journey,  he  thought  him  a  blunt 
good  felluw,  who  had  travelled  a  great  deal,  and  could  render 
himself  a  very  agreeable  companion  by  a  graphic  relation  of 
his  adventures.     He  could  be  all  this,  when  he  chose  to  relax 
from  his  sullen,  morose  mood ;  and,  much  as  I  disliked  him 
I  have  listened  with  interest  for  hours  to  his  droll  descriptions 
of  South  American  life  and  maimers. 

Naturally  indolent,  and  a  constitutional  grumbler,  it  was 
with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  Moodie  could  get  him  to  do 
any  thing  beyond  bringing  a  few  pails  of  water  from  the 
swamp  for  the  use  of  the  house,  and  he  has  often  passed  me 
carrying  water  up  from  the  lake  without  offering  to  relieve 
me  of  the  burden.  Mary,  the  betrothed  of  Jacob,  called  him 
a  perfect  oeast ;  but  he,  returning  good  for  evil,  considered 
her  a  very  pretty  girl,  and  paid  her  so  many  uncouth  atten- 
tions  that  :ie  roused  the  jealousy  of  honest  Jake,  who  vowed 
that  he  would  give  him  a  good  « loomping"  if  he  only  dared 


■'*  !  ill 


''i  r 


108 


ROUOHINQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


Hi. 


i'    ■   H 


II  S 


to  lay  a  finger  upon  his  sweetheart.  With  Jacob  to  back  her, 
Mary  treated  the  "  zea-bear,"  as  Jacob  termed  him,  with  vast 
disdain,  and  was  so  saucy  to  him  that,  forgetting  his  admira- 
tion, he  declared  he  would  like  to  serve  her  as  the  Indiana 
had  done  a  scolding  woman  in  South  America.  They  at- 
tacked  her  house  during  the  absence  of  her  husband,  cut  out 
her  tongue,  and  nailed  it  to  the  door,  by  way  of  knocker ; 
and  he  thought  that  all  women  who  could  not  keep  a  civil 
toi.gue  in  their  head  should  be  served  in  the  same  manner. 

"  And  what  should  be  done  to  men  who  swear  and  use  on- 
dacent  language  ?"  quoth  Mary,  indignantly.  «  Their  tongues 
should  be  slit,  and  given  to  the  dogs.  Faugh !  You  are  such 
a  nasty  fellow  that  I  don't  think  Hector  would  eat  your 
tongue." 

"I'll  kill  that  beast,"  muttered  Malcolm,  as  he  walked 
away. 

I  remonstrated  with  him  on  the-,  impropriety  of  bandying 
words  with  our  servants.  "  You  see,"  I  sa*d,  « the  disrespect 
with  which  they  treat  you;  and  if  they  presume  upon  your  fa- 
miliarity,  to  speak  to  our  guest  in  this  contemptuous  manner, 
they  will  soon  extend  the  same  conduct  to  us." 
"  But,  Mrs.  Moodie,  you  should  reprove  them." 
"I  cannot,  sir,  while  you  continue,  by  taking  liberties  with 
the  girl,  and  swearing  at  the  man,  to  provoke  them  to  retali- 
ation." 

"  Swearing !  What  harm  is  there  in  swearing  ?  A  sailor 
cannot  live  without  oaths." 

"  But  a  gentleman  might,  Mr.  Malcolm.  I  should  be  sorry 
to  consider  you  in  any  other  light." 

"  Ah,  you  are  such  a  prude— so  methodistical— you  make 
no  allowance  for  circumstances!  Surely,  in  the  woods  we 
may  dispense  with  the  hypocritical,  conventional  forms  of 
society,  and  speak  and  act  as  we  please." 


imim 


» 


s  manner. 


THE  LITTLE  STUMPY  MAN.  109 

"So  you  seem  to  think  ;  but  you  see  the  result." 
"I  have  never  been  used  to  the  society  of  ladies,  and  I 
car^r  ^  fashion  my  words  to  please  them ;  and  I  won't,  that's 
move  !"  he  muttered  to  himself,  as  he  strode  off  to  Moodie  in 
the  field.  I  wished  from  ny  very  heart  that  he  was  once 
more  on  the  deck  of  his  piratical  South  American  craft. 

One  night  he  insisted  on  going  out  in  the  canoe  to  spear 
muskmong6  with  Moodie.  The  evening  turned  out  very  chill 
and  foggy,  and,  before  twelve,  they  returned,  with  only  one 
fish,  and  half  frozen  with  cold.  Malcolm  had  got  twinges  of 
rheumatism,  and  he  fussed,  and  sulked,  and  swore,  and  quar- 
relied  with  every  body  and  every  thing,  until  Moodie,  who 
was  highly  amused  by  his  petulance,  advised  him  to  go  to  his 
bed,  and  pray  for  the  happy  restoration  of  liis  temper 

"  Temper  !"  he  cried,  "I  don't  believe  there's  a  -ood-tem- 
pered  person  in  the  world.  It's  all  hypocrisy !  I  never  had  a 
good  temper!  My  mother  was  an  ill-tempered  woman,  and 
ruled  my  father,  who  was  a  confoundedly  severe,  domineering 
man  I  m  as  born  in  an  ill  temper.  I  was  an  ill-tempered 
child ;  I  grew  up  an  ill-tempered  man.  I  feel  worse  than  ill 
tempered  now,  and  when  I  die  it  will  be  in  an  illtemper  " 

"Well,"  quoth  I,  "Moodie  has  made  you  a  tumbler  of 
hot  punch,  which  may  help  to  drive  out  the  cold  and  the  ill 
temper,  and  cure  the  rheumatism." 

"  Ay ;  your  husband's  a  good  fellow,  and  worth  two  of 
you,  Mrs.  Moodie.  He  makes  some  allowance  for  the  weak- 
ness of  human  nature,  and  can  excuse  even  my  ill  temper." 

I  did  not  choose  to  bandy  words  with  him,  and  the  next 
day  tk  -^fortunate  creature  was  shaking  with  the  ague.  A 
more  ini  table,  outrageous,  em-patient  I  never  had  the  ill 
fortune  to  nurse.  During  the  cold  fit,  he  did  nothing  but 
swear  at  the  cold,  and  wished  himself  roasting ;  and  during 
the  fever,  he  swore  at  the  heat,  and  wished  that  he  was  sitting 


'  H 


110 


ROUOIIINQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


U 


n 


in  no  other  garment  than  his  shirt,  on  the  north  side  of  an  ice- 
berg.  And  when  the  fit  at  last  left  him,  he  got  up,  and 
ate  such  quantities  of  fat  pork,  and  drank  so  much  whiskey, 
punch,  that  you  would  have  imagined  he  had  just  arrived 
trom  a  long  journey,  and  had  not  tasted  food  for  a  couple  of 
days.  ^ 

He  would  not  believe  that  fishing  in  the  cold  night-air 
upon  the  water  had  made  him  ill,  but  raved  that  it  was  all  my 
fault  for  having  laid  my  baby  down  on  his  bod  while  it  was 
shaknig  with  the  ague. 

Yet,  if  there  were  the  least  tenderness  mixed  up  in  his  iron 
nature,  it  was  the  aflection  he  displayed  for  that  young  child. 
Dunhar  was  just  twenty  months  old,  with  bright,  dark  eyes 
dimpled  cheeks,  and  soft,  flowing,  golden  hair,  which  fell 
roynd  his  mfant  face  in  rich  curls.  The  merry,  confiding  little 
creature  formed  such  a  contrast  to  his  own  surly,  unyielding 
temper,  that,  perhaps,  that  very  circumstance  made  the  bond 
of  union  between  them.  When  in  the  house,  the  little  boy 
was  seldom  out  of  his  arms,  and  whatever  were  Malcolm's 
faults  he  had  none  in  the  eyes  of  the  child,  who  used  to  cling 
around  his  neck,  and  kiss  his  rough,  unshaven  cheeks  with  the 
greatest  fondness. 

"If  I  could  afford  it,  Moodie,"  he  said  one  day  to  my  hus- 
band "  I  should  like  to  marry.     I  want  some  one  upon  whom 
could  vent  my  affections."     And  wanting  that  some  one  in 
the  form  of  woman,  he  contented  himself  with  venting  them 
upon  the  child.  ^ 

As  the  spring  advanced,  and  after  Jacob  left  us,  he  seemed 
ashamed  of  sitting  in  the  house  doing  nothing,  and  therefore 
undertook  to  make  us  a  garden,  or  "  to  make  garden,"  as  the 
Canadians  term  prepariag  a  few  vegetables  for  the  season. 
1  procured  the  necessary  seeds,  and  watched  with  no  .mall 
surprise  the  industry  with  which  our  strange  visitor  com- 


lee- 


TIIB  LmiF.  STUMPY  HAS.  ]]1 

mcnccd  operations.     Ho  repaired  tl,e  broken  fcne,,  dug  tl,o 
ground  w„h  the  greatest  care,  and  laid  it  ont  with  a  ski  f  and 

ess  than  three  weel<s,  the  whole  plot  presented  a  very  picas, 
-g  prospeet,  and  ho  was  really  elated  \,y  his  snecos,.  '  ' 
At  any  rate,    said  he,  "  we  shall  no  longer  be  starved  on 

Lets  and"':    T'"";     T"  ^'""'  '"'™  P""'''  »""  "--.  »"^ 
beets  and  earrots,  and  cabbage  in  abundance;    beside    the 

plot  I  have  reserved  for  cucumbers  and  „„.|ons  " 

until  fhe       7^^^  ''  "'^""^  '"''  '"'•'"•■''•  """•»  '»  "toy  with  ns 

1       ot  0,^:        ""  "'^'' •"  ""'  "-^  '--'  "'-"J  -">in  me,  for 
he  not  only  was  a  great  additional  expense,  but  he  -ave  a 

great  deal  of  additional  trouble,  and  entirely   obbed  us^o    all 
pr  vaey,  as  our  very  parlour  was  converted  into  a  bedrojn 
for  h,s  accommodation;  besides  that,  a  man  of  his  sWaa.! 
dirty  hab.ts  made  a  very  disagreeable  inmate.  ^       ^ 

ihc  only  redeeming  point  in  his  character,  in  my  eves 
^^as  h,s  love  for  Dunbar.  I  could  not  entirei;  hat7a  man 
wo  was  so  fondly  attached  to  my  child.     To'the  two  Ite 

every  th,ng.  I  never  could  cook  to  please  him ;  and  he  tried 
m  tho  most  malicious  way  to  induce  Moodie  to  join  in  ht 
complamts     All  his  schemes  to  make  strife  between  us  how 

way  did  he  ever  seek  to  render  me  the  least  assistance 
Short,v  after  Jacob  left  us,  Mary  Price  was  offered  hlhe; 
wages  by  a  family  at  Peterborough,  and  for  some  time  I  w 
left  w,th  four  httle  children,  and  without  a  servant  MooX 
always  mdked  the  cows,  because  I  never  could  ov  00^ 
fear  of  cattle ;  and  though  I  had  occasionally  milted  wh"^ 
there  was  no  one  else  in  the  way,  it  was  ir,  fear'lnd  trembW 
Mood.e  had  to  go  down  to  Peterborough;  but  before  he 


I"- 


J"   "tijiUni. 


112 


^OVqhuxii^  M4.  t.    ^IIE  BUSH. 


I 


i 


%\ 


went,  hii  lagged  Malcolm  to  bring  me  what  water  and  wood 
1  required,  and  to  stand  by  the  cattle  while  I  milked  the  cows 
and  ho  would  himself  bo  home  before  night.     He  started  at 
SIX  m  the  morning,  and  I  got  the  pail  to  go  and  milk.     Mal- 
colm was  lying  upon  his  bed,  reading. 

.u  '1^,'*  ^alcolm,  will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  go  with  me  to 
the  fields  for  a  few  minutes  while  I  milk  ?" 

"  Yes  !"  (then,  with  a  sulky  frown,)  "but  I  want  to  finish 
what  I  am  reading." 

"  I  will  not  detain  you  long." 

V  ^"  ^.n  """J,  ^  ""^^'"'^  ^^°"^  ^^  ^^"^-  You  are  a  shocking 
bad  milker."  ° 

"True;  I  never  went  near  a  cow  until  I  came  to  this 
country;  and  I  have  never  been  able  to  overcome  my  fear 
of  them."  ^ 

"More  shame  for  you !  A  farmer's  wife,  and  afraid  of  a 
cow !     Why,  these  little  children  would  laugh  at  you." 

r  did  not  reply,  nor  would  I  ask  him  again.     I  wallied 
slowly  to  the  field,  and  my  indignation  made  me  forget  my 
fear.     I  had  just  finished  milking,  and  with  a  brimming  pail 
was  preparing  to  climb  the  fence  and  return  to  the  house 
when  a  vei/  wild  ox  we  had  came  running  with  headlong 
speed  from  the  wood.     All  my  fears  were  alive  again  in  a 
moment.     I  snatched  up  the  pail,  and,  instead  of  climbing  the 
fence  and  getting  to  the  house,  I  ran  with  all  the  speed  I  could 
command  down  the  steep  hill  towards  the  lake  shore ;  my 
feet  caught  in  a  root  of  the  many  stumps  in  the  path,  and  I 
fell  to  the  ground,  my  pail  rolling  many  yards  ahead  of  me 
Every  drop  of  my  milk  was  spilt  upon  the  grass.     The  ox 
passed  on.     I  gathered  myself  up  and  returned  home.     Mai- 
colm  was  very  fond  of  new  milk,  and  he  came  to  meet  me  ai 
the  door. 

"Hi !  hi !— Where's  the  milk  ?" 


TffB  LITTLE  STUMPY  MAX  II3 

« No  milk  for  tho  poor  children  to-day,"  said  I,  showing 
him  the  inside  of  the  pail,  with  a  soiTowful  shako  of  the  head, 
for  it  was  no  small  loss  to  them  and  me. 

"How  the  devil's  that?  So  you  were  afraid  to  milk  the 
cows.     Come  away,  and  I  will  keep  off  the  buggaboos." 

"I  did  milk  them— no  thanks  to  your  kindness,  Mr.  Mai- 
colm — but — " 

"But  what?" 

"The  ox  frightened  me,  and  I  fell  and  spilt  all  the  milk  » 
"Whew!  Now  don't  go  and  tell  your  husband  that  it 
was  all  my  fault;  if  you  had  had  a  little  patience,  I  would 
have  come  when  you  asked  me,  but  I  don't  choose  to  be  die 
tated  to,  and  I  won't  be  made  a  slave  by  you  or  any  one 
else." 

"Then  why  do  you  stay,  sir,  where  you  consider  yourself 
so  treated?"  said  I.  «  We  arc  all  obliged  to  work  to  obtain 
bread ;  we  give  you  the  best  share— surely  the  return  we  ask 
for  it  is  but  small." 

"You  make  me  feci  my  obligations  to  you  when  you  ask 
me  to  do  any  thing;  if  you  left  it  to  my  better  feelings  we 
should  get  on  better." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right.  I  will  never  ask  you  to  do  any 
thing  for  me  in  future." 

^  "  Oh,  now,  that's  .  ,  .aock  humility.  In  spite  of  the  tears 
m  your  eyes,  you  ure  as  angry  with  me  as  ever;  but  don't 
go  to  make  mischief  between  me  and  Moodie.  If  you'll  say 
nothing  about  my  refusing  to  go  with  you,  I'll  milk  the  .ows 
for  you  myself  to-night." 

"And  can  you  milk?"  said  I,  with  some  curiosity. 

"Milk!     Yes;  and  if  I  were  not  so  confoundedly  low- 

spirited  and lazy,  I  could  do  a  thousand  other  things  too. 

But  now,  don't  say  a  word  about  it  to  Moodie." 
I  made  no  promise;  but  my  respect  fur  him  was  not  in- 


■'it 


f*' 


114 


EouGinm  ir  m  the  busk 


creased  by  h.s  cowardly  fear  of  reproof  from  Moodie,  who 
treated  hnn  w.th  a  kindness  and  consideration  which  he  did 
not  deserve.  The  afternoon  turned  out  very  wet  and  I  was 
sorry  that  I  should  be  troubled  with  his  co^any  111  dl^M 
the  house.  I  was  making  a  shirt  for  Moodie  from  some 
cotton  that  had  been  sent  me  from  home,  and  he  placed  him- 
self  by  the  s.de  of  the  stove,  just  opposite,  and  continued  to 
regard  me  for  a  long  time  with  his  usual  sullen  stare.  I 
really  felt  half  afraid  of  him. 

"  Dmi't  you  think  me  mad  ?"  said  he.  "  I  have  a  brother 
deranged;  he  got  a  stroke  of  the  sun  in  India,  and  lost  his 
family''''''"'''^"'"'''  ^"' ^"'"^^'"^^^  ^  ^^^'"'^  it  runs  in  the 

What  answer  could  I  give  to  this  speech,  but  mere  evasive 
commonplace? 

"You  won't  say  what  you  really  think,"  he  continued; 

I  know  you  hate  me,  and  that  makes  me  dislike  you.     Now 

what  would  you  say  if  I  told  you  I  had  committed  a  murder, 

and  that  it  was  the  recollection  of  that  circumstance  that  made 

me  at  tmies  so  restless  and  unhappy  ?" 

I  looked  up  in  his  face,  not  knowing  what  to  believe. 
Tis  fact,     said  he,  nodding  his  head  ;  and  I  hoped  that 
he  Tvould  not  go  mad,  like  his  brother,  and  kill  me 

"Come,  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it ;  I  know  the  world  would 
laugh  at  me  for  calling  such  an  act  murder;  and  yet  I  have 
been  such  a  miserable  man  ever  since,  that  I  feel  it  was 

"There  was  a  noted  leader  among  the  rebel  Buenos. 
Ayreans,  whom  the  government  wanted  much  to  get  hold  of 
He  was  a  fine,  dashing,  handsome  fellow ;  I  had  often  seen 
him,  but  we  never  came  to  close  quarters.  One  night  I  was 
lying  wrapped  up  in  my  poncho  at  the  bottom  of  my  boat 
which  was  rocking  in  the  surf,  waiting  for  two  of  my  men' 
who  were  gone  on  shore.     There  came  to  the  shore,  this  man' 


Tim  LITTLM  STUMPr  MAX  ]  55 

and  one  of  his  people,  and  they  stood  so  near  the  boat  «hich 

suppose  they  thought  empty,  that  1  eould  distu,otIy  h   .r 

he,r  eonversation.     I  suppose  it  was  the  devil  who  tempted 

™e  to  put  a  bullet  through  that  man's  heart      He  w"s  f 

ZZ'  1 1'^  ""f  ^'"'^  '  '•-«'".  ^"'  he  wast:,,; 
toine-I  had  no  nght  to  become  his  exeeutioner-  but  stm 
the  des,re  to  kill  him,  for  the  mere  deviltry  of  the Thi„rL 
-  -ongly  upon  n,e  that  I  no  longer  tried'to  r  st    t  ^^ ! 
Btowy  upon  my  knees;  the  moon  was  sl,i,u-„g  very  bright  at 

bodv      He  ni  "'V'   .  """'"'^  ^''"'  '""  "-rough  ,1,1 

body.     I  e  fell  w,th  a  heavy  groan  back  into  the  water  •   but 

I  caught  the  last  look  he  threw  up  to  the  moonlig  ^  k  Js  be 
fore  h,s  eyes  glazed  in  death.  Oh,  that  look-l  o  fl,  of 
despa,r,  of  unutterable  anguish;  it  haunts  me  yet  Jt  wHl 
naunt  me  for  ever      T  wn.iiri  v,  ^  u  ^  y^t.     n  wiJi 

yi  ever,     i  would  not  have  cared  if  I  had  killorl 

at  my  hear    ha  .  was  murder.     What  do  you  say  to  itf"  ° 

I  should  th,nk  as  you  do,  Mr.  Maleobn      It  if  a  terrible 

th,ng  to  take  awar  the  life  nf  ,  f  11  •     'i-  "■  a  tcr,,ble 

least  provocat.on.'  fc""w-c.-eatu,-e  without  the 

after  all     I  had  a  nght  to  kill  him ;  I  was  hired  by  the  .ov 

:o™rnr:"  ^""^ '  ^^-^^ '» ■""  -'-  »<•  ^^^^^ 

"  No  one  more  than  your  own  heart." 

"It  ,s  not  the  heart,  but  the  brain,  that  must  decide  in 
qnest,ons  of  right  and  wrong,"  said  he."    "I  aete    from  im 
pulse  and  shot  the  m.an ;  had  I  reasoned  upon  it  for  five 

"L^ndr  Td'i":  "T "°"- '"' '''-''  '-^ 

upon  South  Wi-ca  r  ''"^  ""'  '"^  ^"^^  '  -°'« 


w 


#**»•*■ 


i'liii 


■'hi  ^ 


w      > 


p 


lie 


ROUQHma  IT  IN  THE  BUSK 


"Are  you  an  author,"  said  I,  incredulously. 

"  To  be  sure  I  am.  Murray  offered  me  £100  for  my 
manuscript,  but  I  would  not  take  it.  Shall  I  read  to  you 
some  passages  from  it  ?" 

I  am  sorry  to  say  that  his  behaviour  in  the  morning  was 
uppermost  in  my  thoughts,  and  I  had  no  repugnance  in  re- 
fusing. 

"  No,  don't  trouble  yourself.  I  have  the  dinner  to  cook, 
and  the  children  to  attend  to,  which  will  cause  a  constant  in- 
terruption ;  you  had  better  defer  it  to  some  other  time." 

"I  shan't  ask  you  to  listen  to  me  again,"  said  he,  with  a 
look  of  offended  vanity ;  but  he  went  to  his  trunk,  and 
brought  out  a  large  MS.,  written  on  foolscap,  which  he 
commenced  reading  to  himself  with  an  air  of  great  self- 
importance,  glancing  from  time  to  time  at  me,  and  smiling 
disdainfully.  Oh,  how  glad  I  was  when  the  door  opened,  and 
the  return  of  Moodie  broke  up  this  painful  tete-a-tete. 

From  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous  is  but  a  step.  The 
very  next  day,  Mr.  Malcolm  made  his  appearance  before  me, 
wrapped  in  a  great-coat  belonging  to  my  husband,  which 
literally  came  down  to  his  heels.  At  this  strange  apparition, 
I  fell  a-laughing. 

"  For  God's  sake,  Mrs.  Moodie,  lend  me  a  pair  of  inex- 
pressibles.     I  have  met  with  an  accident  in  crossing  the  fence, 
and  mine  are  torn  to  shreds— gone  to  the  devil  entirely." 
"  Well,  don't  sweaY.     I'll  see  what  can  be  done  for  you." 
I  brought  him  a  new  pair  of  fine,  drab-coloured  kerseymere 
trowsers  that  had  never  been  worn.     Although  he  was  elo 
quent  in  his  thanks,  I  had  no  idea  that  he  meant  to  keep  ther 
for  his  sole  individual  use  from  that  day  thenceforth.     Bdl 
after  all,  what  was  the  man  to  do  ?     He  had  no  trowsers,  and 
no  money,  and  he  could  not  take  to  the  woods.     Certainly 
liis  loss  was  not  our  gain.    It  was  the  old  proverb  reversed. 


Et-L. 


m 


TBB  LITTLE  STUMPY  UAS.  jj. 

The  season  for  putting  i„  the  potatoes  had  now  arrived 

^r^!  ".r^f ''  '°  ""'  "«*  ^^'^'  -W'^''  ^^  -sy  work 
ftat  could  be  done  in  ^he  house,  and  over  which  he  coud 

share  m  the  field,  that  I  had  already  sets  enough  saved  to 
plant  half-an.a.re,  and  would  have  more  prepared  by  thlthne 
they  were  required.     With  many  g^wls  and  shrugs,  Lm 
obhged  to  comply;   and  he  performed  his  part  pr!t  y  we  - 
*e  execrafons  bestowed  upon  the  mosquitoes  and  blacMeJ 
fornung  a  sort  of  safety-valve  to  let  off  thl  concentrated  venom 

^nd^rr    """^"'^  --^  -  -^-.'■eWdoutZ 

"  Look  at  these  hands." 

"  They  are  Mistered  with  the  hoe." 

"  Look  at  my  face." 

"  Yo.  are  terribly  disfigured  by  the  black-flies  But 
Mooie  suffers  j«st  as  much,  and  says  notl,ing  " 

"Bah !-The  only  consolation  one  feels  for  such  annoy- 
^.    ;  -s  to  complam.     Oh,  the  woods  --the  cursed  woodT-- 

but  in  r  r"  ""i  "'  "'^'"•"  ^0  -^"y  ™^  very  warm 
but  m  the  afternoon  I  was  surprised  by  a  visit  from  „„  „u 
maiden  lady,  a  friend  of  mine  from  oH  tXZ  Z. 
up  with  a  Mr.  Crowe,  from  Pete^b^b,  a'^otgTdsl 
lookmg  farmer  in  breeches  and  top-boots'/ust  out  ftm  tt 
old  ountry,  who,  naturally  enough,  thought  he  would  iTke  to 
roost  among  the  woods. 

He  was  a  little,  lively,  good-natured  mamiy,  with  a  real 
A^lo-Saxon  face,_rosy,  high  cheek-boned,  with  fuU  Up!  and 
a  tumed-up  nose;  and,  like  most  little  men,  was  a  Cat 
talker  and  very  full  of  himself  He  had  be  onged  to  2 
secondary  class  of  farmers,  and  was  very  vulgafbo^h  m 
person  and  mam^ers.  I  had  just  prepared  L  toLy  v^  tor^ 
when  Malcolm  and  Moodie  returned  &om  the  6  J    '^2 


J   *' 


i     ' 


i     I 

m 


118 


nouomNo  it  m  the  bush. 


was  no  affectation  about  the  former.     He  was  manly  in  his 
person,  and  blunt  even  to  rudeness,  and  I  saw  by  the  quizzical 
look  which  he  cast  upon  the  spruce  little  Crowe  that  he  was 
quietly  quizzing  him  from  head  to  heel.     A  neighbour  had 
sent  me  a  present  of  maple  molasses,  and  Mr.  Crowe  was  so 
fearful  of  spilling  some  of  the  rich  syrup  upon  hir  d.ub  shorts 
that  he  spread  a  large  pocket-handkerchief  over  l,is  knees  and 
tucked  another  ur.der  his  chin.     I  felt  very  muca  mclined  to 
laugh,  but  restrained  the  inclination  as  well  as  I  could— and 
if  the  little  creature  would  have  sat  still,  I  could  have  quelled 
my  rebellious  propensity  altogether;  but  up  he  would  jump 
at  every  word  I  said  to  him,  and  make  me  a  low,  jerking  bow 
often  with  his  mouth  quite  full,  and  the  treacherous  molasses 
running  over  his  chin. 

Malcolm  sat  directly  opposite  to  me  and  my  volatile  next- 
door  neighbour.  He  saw  the  intense  difficulty  J  had  to  keep 
my  gravity,  and  was  determined  to  make  me  laugh  out.  So 
coming  slyly  behind  my  chair,  he  whispered  in  my  ear,  with 
the  gravity  of  a  judge,  "Mrs.  Moodie,  that  must  have  been 
the  very  chap  who  first  jumped  Jim  Crowe." 

This  appeal  obliged  me  to  run  from  the  table.  Moodie 
was  astonished  at  my  rudeness ;  and  Malcolm,  as  he  resumed 
his  seat,  made  the  matter  worse  by  saying,  "  I  wonder  what 
IS  the  matter  with  Mrs.  Moodie ;  she  is  certainly  very  hys- 
terical  this  afternoon." 

^  The  potatoes  were  planted,  and  the  season  of  strawber- 
ries, green  peas,  and  young  potatoes  come,  but  still  Malcolm 
remained  our  constant  guest.  He  had  grown  so  indolent,  and 
gave  himself  so  many  airs,  that  Moodie  was  heartily  sick  of 
his  company,  and  gave  him  many  gentle  hints  to  change  his 
quarters  ;  but  our  guest  was  determined  to  take  no  hint  For 
some  reason  best  known  to  himself,  perhaps  out  of  sheer  con- 
tradiction,  which  formed  one  great  element  in  his  character 


TBI:  LITTLE  STtJUPr  iuX  Hit 

he  seemed  obstinately  bent  upon  remaining  where  he  was. 
Mood,e  was  busy  under-bushing  for  a  full  fallow.     Malcolm 

well  ,s  by  no  moans  an  unsavoury  dish.  Malcolm  had  cleaned 
some  green  peas,  and  washed  the  first  young  potatoes  we  had 
drawn  that  season,  with  his  own  hands,  and  he  was  recl<onin. 
upon  the  feast  he  should  have  on  the  potatoes  with  childish 
glee  The  dnmer  at  length  was  put  upon  the  table.  The 
vegetables  were  remarkably  line,  and  the  pie   looked  very 

Hoodie  helped  Malcolm,  as  he  always  did,  very  Wely 
and  he  other  covered  his  plate  with  a  portio^  of  peL°»d 
potatoes,  when,  1„  „„d  behold!  my  gentleman  began  making 
a  very  wry  face  at  the  pie.  ^ 

"  What  an  infernal  dish !"  he  eried,  pushing  away  his  plate 
jv,th  an  a,r  of  great  disgust.  "  These  eels  tast"  as  if  th  y  had 
brr^rcol"'-    ^^""-^"--^-'^-hyourwffeto 

"  If  you  don't  like  what  is  prepared  for  you,  sir,  you  may 
leave  the  table,  and  „,y  ho„se,  if  you  please.    'l  whfput  ,!p 
w,th  your  ungcntlemanly  and   ungrateful   conduct   to  Mrs 
Moodie  no  longer." 

Out  stalked  the  offending  party.  I  thought,  to  be  sure  we 
had  got  r,d  of  him  ;  and  though  he  deserved  what  was  kid 
to  h,m,  I  was  sorry  for  him.  Moodie  took  his  dinner,  quietly 
remarbng,  "  I  wonder  he  could  find  it  in  his  heart  to  leavl 
those  fine  pea.s  and  potatoes." 

He  then  went  back  to  his  work  in  the  bush,  and  I  cleared 
awayjhe  dishes,  and  churned,  for  I  wanted  butter  for  tea 
About  four  o'clock,  Mr.  Malcolm  entered  the  room,   "  Mrs. 


II 


W 


Ml 


*^!' 


%m 


I 

li'i 


m 


p    I 


I   i 


^'^m 


-^ 


120 


BOTJQHINO  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


Moodie,"  said  he,  in  a  more  cheerful  voice  tlian  usual,  "  where's 
the  boss?" 

"In  the  wood,  under-bushing."  I  felt  dreadfully  afraid 
that  there  would  be  blows  between  them. 

"I  hope,  Mr.  Malcolm,  that  you  are  not  going  to  him  with 
any  intention  of  a  fresh  quarrel." 

"  Don't  you  think  I  have  been  punished  enough  by  losing 
my  dinner?"  said  he,  with  a  grin.  "I  don't  think  we  shall 
murder  one  another."  He  shouldered  his  axe,  and  went  whist- 
ling away. 

After  striving  for  a  long  while  to  stifle  my  foolish  fears,  I 
took  the  baby  in  my  arms,  and  little  Dunbar  by  the  hand, 
and  ran  up  to  the  bush  w^  3re  Moodie  was  at  work. 

At  first  I  only  saw  my  husband,  but  the  strokes  of  an  axe 
at  a  little  distance  soon  guided  my  ej'es  to  the  spot  where 
Malcolm  was  working  away,  as  if  for  dear  life.  Moodie 
smiled,  and  looked  at  me  significantly. 

"How  could  the  fellow  stomach  what  I  said  to  him? 
Either  great  necessity  or  great  meanness  must  be  the  cause 
of  his  knocking  under.  I  don't  know  whether  most  to  pity  or 
despise  him." 

"  Put  up  with  it,  dearest,  for  this  once.  He  is  n.  S  happy, 
and  must  be  greatly  distressed." 

Malcolm  kept  aloof,  ever  and  anon  casting  a  furtive  glance 
towards  us ;  at  last  little  Dunbar  ran  to  him,  and  held  up  his 
arms  to  be  kissed.  The  strange  man  snatched  him  to  his 
bosom,  and  covered  him  with  caresses.  It  might  be  love  to 
the  child  that  had  quelled  his  sullen  spirit,  or  he  might  really 
have  cherished  an  affection  for  us  deeper  than  his  ugly  temper 
would  allow  him  to  show.  At  all  events,  he  joined  us  at  tea 
as  if  nothing  had  happened,  and  we  might  truly  say  that  he  had 
obtained  a  new  lease  of  his  long  visit.  But  what  could  not  be 
effected  by  words  or  hints  of  ours  was  brought  about  a  few 


,,"  Where's 

illy  afraid 

>  him  with 

by  losing 
c  we  shall 
rent  whist- 

ish  fears,  I 
the  hand, 

of  an  axe 

pot  where 

Moodie 

to  him? 
the  cause 
to  pity  or 

,c  t  happy, 

ve  glance 
3ld  up  his 
[m  to  his 
e  love  to 
^ht  really 
[y  temper 
us  at  tea 
lat  he  had 
Id  not  be 
3ut  a  few 


TJIE  LITTLE  STUMPY  llAN.  jj, 

days  after  by  the  sUly  observation  of  a  child.     He  asked  Km' 
to  give  him  a  kiss,  and  he  would  .nV.  i,        "****"«"  Katio 
he  had  gathered  in  'the  bush.  ^  '""'  '^'"^'^ 

"  ^  ^on't  want  them.     Go  awav  •  T  i\r.y.H  Y^ 
tie  stumpy  man  /"  ^ '         ""  *  ^^^  ^^"'  V^^  ^^^ 

"  mT^I         ^;  '  ""'"*'  ^"^  ^^^«d'«  <^a"ed  after  him 

Malcolm,  as  I  am  sendinfr  tr.  P«f    i,  ,  ^» 

man  shall  take  in  your  tZk '•  hJ  ""f  '°-"''"°"'  "•» 
turn  and  bid  us  good  bvl  bt  \  T  ^  '"^  "«»  *» 
him  vet  Tw!  ^"'^-y"'^"*  ™«  htd  "ot  seen  the  last  of 
lum  jet.      J. wo  moaiua  after,  we  were  ti.l,m„  .         •■ 

great  warmth  for  hun,  and  when  we  ros«  to7«i,    ,  T 

and  walked  home  b.    ourTwe     " S  1    v'™' "'"  '•°'* 

»anis  not  returning  toI-Xar^^^   UmtirbT 

r:;:::difrf  hTr^x— •  ^^  ^^■- '  - 

That  night  he  slept  in  his  old  bed  bpTow  fi,.        i 
do^  and  for  three  Lnths  afterw^^^.*! ZT,Z 
beaver.     He  seemed  to  have  grown  more  kindly,  or  we  had 
got  more  used  to  his  eccentricities,  and  let  him  W  h7s  own 
way ;  certainly  he  behaved  himself  much  better     Z.  T 
scored  the  children  nor  interfered  witfthfraid,^.";: 
relied  with  me.     He  had  greatly  discontinued  his  bid  habi 
rf  swearing  and  he  talked  of  himself  and  his  fiiture  p— 
.nth  more  hope  and  self-respect.     His  father  had  prS 
tP  «nd  him  a  fresh  supply  of  money,  and  he  proposed  to  1 

VOL.  II.  Q  '^     '  - 


;4(i 


il 


;  !f 


I|ff8 


122 


HOUOBINQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSK 


I    ! 


of  Moodie  the  clergy  reserve,  and  that  they  should  farm  tho 
two  places  on  shares.  This  offer  was  received  with  great 
joy,  as  an  unlooked-for  means  of  paying  our  debts,  and  ex- 
tricating ourselves  from  present  and  overwhelming  difficulties, 
and  we  looked  upon  the  little  stumpy  man  in  the  light  of  a 
benefactor. 

So  matters  continued  until  Christmas-eve,  when  our 
visitor  proposed  walking  into  Peterborough,  in  order  to  give 
the  children  a  treat  of  raisins  to  make  a  Christmas  pudding. 

"  We  will  be  quite  merry  to-morrow,"  he  said.  "  I  hope 
we  shall  eat  many  Christmas  dinners  together,  and  continue 
good  friends." 

He  started,  after  breakfast,  with  the  promise  of  coming 
back  at  night ;  but  night  came,  the  Christmas  passed  away, 
months  and  years  fled  away,  but  we  never  saw  the  little 
stumpy  man  again ! 

He  went  away  that  day  with  a  stranger  in  a  wagon  from 
Peterborough,  and  never  afterwards  was  seen  in  thr.t  part  of 
Canada.  We  afterwards  learned  that  he  went  to  Texas,  and  it 
is  thought  that  he  was  killed  at  St.  Antonio;  but  this  is  mere 
conjecture.    Whether  dead  or  living,  I  feel  convinced  that 

"  We  ne'er  shall  look  upon  his  like  again." 


TEE  FIHE. 


\  farm  the 
vith  great 
3,  and  ex- 
lifficulties, 
light  of  a 

v^hen    our 
er  to  give 
pudding. 
« I  hope 
I  continue 

f  coming 
ed  away, 
the  little 

gon  from 
t  part  of 
as,  and  it 
s  is  mere 
Ithat 


123 


CHAPTER   Ylii. 

THE    FIRE. 

^  forgotten  m  the  annals  of  Canadian  history,  was  very  se 

Z;.  r'"=  •'■:  """"^  °^^*™-y.  "-  thermometer  Tften 
ranged  from  eighteen  to  twenty^even  degrees  below  zero 
Spea  ,ng  of  the  eoldncss  of  one  particular  d'ay,  a  genuTneB  " 
ther  Jonathan  remarked,  with  charming  simplidty^hat  .t  w^s 
th,rty  degrees  below  zero  that  morning,  and  it  would  hZ 
been  much  colder  if  the  thern.omcter  hacTbeen  longer 

The  morning  of  the  seventh  was  so  intensely  cold  that 
every  thmg  liquid  froze  in  the  house.  The  wood  that  hi!) 
been  d  ,    ,,,  ,,,  ^^  ^^^^  ^^^  .^       joo      ha^  h  a 

satisfy  the  shivering  impatience  of  women  and  children    I 
venedmme  in  -dibly  grumbling  over  the  wretched  fire,'at 

:5g  ctiiir '"™"^' "  '^"^ '™""  '-^'  »<•  -  ^- 

It  so  happened  that  an  old  friend,  the  maiden  lady  before 
ahuded  to,  had  been  staying  with  us  fora  few  days.  Sheta" 
left  us  for  a  v,s,t  to  my  sister,  and  as  some  relatives  of  hers 
were  about  to  return  to  Britain  by  the  way  of  New  York,  and 

b  sv'flThe';  T7  ''^""^  '"  '"'"''  ''  ''°"^'  I  ^<^  been 
busy  all  the  day  before  preparing  a  packet  for  England.     It 

was  my  mtention  to  walk  to  my  sister's  with  this  packet,  di- 

reetly  the  important  affair  of  breakfast  had  been  discussed ; 

but  the  extreme  cold  of  the  morning  had  occasioned  .„.h 


■« 


!i 


'« 


li!' 


Pfi 


124 


EouQHma  IT  m  the  bush. 


It 


I    i 


<      Sj 


delay  that  it  was  late  before  the  brcakfastthhigs  were  cleared 
away. 

After  dressing,  I  found  the  air  so  keen  that  I  could  not 
venture  out  without  some  risk  to  my  nose,  and  my  husband 
kindly  volunteered  to  go  in  my  stead.  I  had  hired  a  young 
Irish  girl  the  day  before.  Her  friends  were  only  just  located 
in  our  vicinity,  and  she  had  never  seen  a  stove  until  she  came 
to  our  house.  After  Moodie  left,  I  suffered  the  fire  to  die 
away  in  the  Franklin  stove  in  the  parlour,  and  went  into  the 
kitchen  to  prepare  bread  for  the  oven. 

The  girl,  who  was  a  good-natured  creature,  had  heard  me 
complain  bitterly  of  the  cold,  and  the  impossibility  of  getting 
the  green  wood  to  burn,  and  she  ihowM  that  she  would  see 
if  she  could  not  make  a  good  fire  for  me  and  the  children, 
against  my  work  was  done.  Without  saying  one  word  about 
her  intention,  she  slipped  out  through  a  door  that  opened  from 
the  parlour  into  the  garden,  ran  round  to  the  wood-yard,  filled 
her  lap  with  cedar  chips,  and,  not  knowing  the  nature  of  the 
stove,  filled  it  entirely  with  the  light  wood. 

Before  I  had  the  least  idea  of  my  danger,  I  was  aroused 
from  the  completion  of  my  task  by  the  crackling  and  roaring 
of  a  large  fire,  and  a  suflK)cating  smell  of  burning  soot.  I 
looked  up  at  the  kitchen  cooking-stove.  All  was  right  there. 
I  knew  I  had  left  no  fire  in  the  parlour  stove ;  but  not  being 
able  to  account  for  the  smoke  and  smell  of  burning,  I  opened 
the  door,  and  to  my  dismay  found  the  stove  red  hot,  from  the 
front  plate  to  the  topmost  pipe  that  let  out  the  smoke  through 
the  roof. 

My  first  impulse  was  to  plunge  a  blanket,  snatched  from 
the  servant's  bed,  which  stood  in  the  kitchen,  into  cold  water. 
This  I  thrust  into  the  stove,  and  upon  it  I  threw  water  until 
all  was  cool  below.  I  then  ran  up  to  the  loft,  and  by  exhaust- 
ing all  the  water  in.  the  house,  even  to  that  contained  in  the 


itSM 


THE  FIRE. 


125 


I 


bo.le.s  upon  the  fire,  contrived  to  cool  down  the  pipe,  which 
passed  through  the  loft.     I  then  sent  the  girl  out  of  doors  to 
look  a   the  roo  ,  which,  as  a  very  deep  full  of  snow  had  taken 
iJace    he  day  before,  I  hoped  would  bo  completely  covered 
and  safe  from  all  danger  of  lire. 

She  quickly  returned,  stamping  and  tearing  her  hair,  and 

mak".g  a  vanetyofuncouth  outcries,  from  which  I  gathered 
that  the  roof  was  in  flames. 

This  was  terrible  news,  with  my  husband  absent,  no  man 

n  the  house,  and  a  m.lc  and  a  quarter  from  any  other  habita. 

tion.     I  ran  out  to  ascertain  the  extent  of  the  misfortune  and 

found  a  toge  fire  buying  in  the  roof  between  the  two  Tne 

p.pes.     The  heat  of  the  fires  had  melted  ofl-all  the  snow  and 

A  ladder  which  for  several  months  had  stood  against  the 
house  ad  been  moved  two  days  before  to  the  b^wbh 
was  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  near  the  road ;  there  was  no  reach 

2  f '  T,     r^^  """  '°"'''-     '  g°'  o-'  "■«  dining-table 
and  tned  to  throv  water  upon  the  roof  by  standmg  on  a  chai 
placed  upon  :t,  but  I  only  expended  the  little  water  that  re- 
mamed  m  the  boiler,  without  reaching  the  fire.    The  girl  still 
contmued  weeping  and  lamentui.r 

"  You  must  go  for  help,"  I  said.     «  Run  as  fast  as  you  can 
to  my  sister's,  and  fetch  your  master" 

^u2'L^ir'  '"^•''™'  -^  *^  "Mdher  alone  wid  the 

"Yes,  yes!     Don't  stay  one  moment." 

"I  have  no  shoes,  ma'arm,  and  the  siv  w  is  so  deep  » 

lost  before  help  comes." 

The  girl  put  on  the  boots  and  started,  shrieking  "  Fire  »» 
the  whole  way.  This  was  utterly  usek.s,  and  only  impeded 
her  progress  by  exhausting  her  strength.     "*       '     -    - 


N' 


An. 


,u^  U_J 


'£%!%    c* 


m\ 


;■!,': 


J'>  i 


!    ,' 


i|l  ''■ 


i»  I 


/It  :litr.iiiii. 


126 


HOUGHlNa  IT  IN  THE  liU^Il 


ished  from  the  head  nf  the  clearing  into  the  wood,  and  I  was 
left  quite  alone,  with  the  house  burning  over  my  head,  I 
paused  one  moment  to  reflect  what  hud  best  be  done. 

The  house  was  built  of  oedar  logs;  in  all  probability  it 
would  be  consumed  before  any  help  could  arrive.     There 
was  a  brisk  breeze  blowing  up  from  the  frozen  lake,  and  the 
thermometer  stood  at  eighteen  degrees  below  zero.    We  were 
placed  between  the  two  extremes  of  heat  and  cold,  and  thei-e 
was  as  V  uoh  danger  to  be  apprehended  from  the  one  as  the 
other.     In  the  bewilderment  of  the  moment,  the  direful  ex- 
tent of  the  calamity  never  struck  me :  we  wanted  but  this  to 
put  the  finishing  stroke  to  our  misfortunes,  to  be  thrown  naked, 
houseless,  and  penniless,  upon  the  world.    »  What  shall  I  save 
first .?»  was  the  thought  just  then  uppermost  in  my  mind. 
Bedding  and  clothing  appeared  the  most  essentially  necessary, 
and  without  another  moment's  pause,  I  set  to  work  wuh  a 
right  good  will  to  drag  all  that  I  could  from  my  burning 
home. 

While  little  Agnes,  Dunbar,  and  baby  Donald  filled  the 
air  with  their  cries,  Katie,  as  if  fully  conscious  of  the  impor- 
tance  of  exertion,  assisted  me  in  carrying  out  sheets  and  blan- 
kets, and  dragging  trunks  and  boxes  some  way  up  the  hill,  to 
bo  out  of  the  way  of  the  burning  brands  when  the  roof  should 
fall  in. 

How  many  anxious  looks  I  gave  to  the  head  of  the  clearing 
as  the  fire  increased,  and  large  pieces  of  burning  pine  began 
to  fall  through  the  boarded  ceiling,  about  the  lower  rooms 
where  we  were  at  work.  The  children  I  had  kept  under  a 
large  dresser  in  the  kitchen,  but  it  now  appeared  absolutely 
necessary  to  remove  them  to  a  place  of  safety.  To  expose 
the  young,  tender  things  to  the  direful  cold  was  almost  as  bad 
as  leaving  them  to  the  mercy  of  the  fire.  At  last  I  hit  upon 
a  plan  to  keep  them  from  freezing.    I  emptied  all  the  clothes 


TffB  riRR, 


197 


out  of  a  Inrge,  deep  chest  of  drawers,  and  dragged  the  empty 
drawers  up  the  hill ;  these  I  luiod  with  blankets,  and  placed  a 
child  in  each  drawer,  covering  it  well  over  with  the  bedding 
giving  to  little  Agnes  the  charge  of  the  baby  to  hold  between' 
her  knees,  and  keep  well  covered  until  help  should  arrive. 
Ah,  how  long  it  seemed  coming ! 

Ttie  roof  was  now  burning  like  a  brush-heap,  and,  uncon- 
sciously, the  child  and  I  were  working  under  a  shelf,  upon 
which  were  deposited  several  pounds  of  gunpowder  which  had 
been  procured  for  blasting  a  well,  as  all  our  water  had  to  be 
brought  up-hill  from  the  lake.  This  gunpowder  was  in  a 
stone  jar,  secured  by  a  paper  stopper  ;  the  shelf  upon  which 
It  stood  was  on  fire,  but  it  was  utterly  forgotten  by  mo  at  the 
tmie;  and  even  afterw.-ds,  vheu  my  husband  was  workin- 
on  the  burning  loft  ove-  it.  ** 

I  Ibund  that  I  shoula  not  be  ahle  to  take  many  more  trips 
for  goods.  As  I  passed  o:;:.  ot  the  parlour  for  the  last  time 
Katie  looked  up  at  her  father's  flute,  ns  hich  was  suspended 
upon  two  brackets,  and  said, 

"  Oh,  dear  mamma !  do  save  papa's  flute ;  he  wUl  be  so 
sorry  to  lose  it." 

God  bfess  the  dear  child  for  the  thought!  the  flute  was 
saved  ;  and,  as  I  succeeded  in  dragging  out  a  heavy  chest  of 
clothes,  and  looked  up  once  more  despairingly  to  the  road  I 
saw  a  man  running  at  full  speed.  It  was  my  husband.  Help 
was  at  hand,  and  my  heart  uttered  a  deep  thanksgivmg  as 
another  and  another  figure  came  upon  the  scene. 

I  had  not  felt  the  intense  cold,  although  without  cap,  or 
tonnet,  or  shawl ;  with  my  hands  bare  and  ex]X)sed  to  the 
bitter,  biting  air.  The  intense  excitement,  the  anxiety  to  save 
all  T  could,  had  so  totally  diverted  my  thoughts  from  myself 
that  I  had  felt  nothing  of  the  danger  to  which  I  had  been 
exposed  J  but  now  that  help  was  near,  my  knees  trembled 


7  I 


.11 


f!l 


128 


Rouojima  IT  m  the  bush. 


ii 
' '    ' 

\M 

';! 

ll 

'■  ■[) 

'1 

rt: 

under  me,  I  felt  giddy  and  faint,  and  dark  shadows  seemed 
dancing  before  my  eyes. 

The  moment  my  husband  and  brother-m-law  entered  the 
house,  the  latter  exclaimed, 

"  Moodie,  the  house  is  gone ;  save  what  you  can  of  your 
winter  stores  and  furniture." 

Moodie  thought  differently.  Prompt  and  energetic  in  dan- 
ger,  and  possessing  admirable  presence  of  mind  and  coolness 
when  others  yield  to  agitation  and  despair,  he  sprang  upon 
the  burning  loft  and  called  for  water.     Alas,  there  was  none ! 

"  Snow,  snow ;  hand  me  up  pailfuls  of  snow  !" 

Oh !  it  was  bitter  work  filling  those  pails  with  frozen  snow ; 
but  Mr.  T and  I  worked  at  it  as  fast  as  we  were  able. 

Tlie  violence  of  the  fire  was  greatly  checked  by  covering 
the  boards  of  the  loft  with  this  snow.     More  help  had  now 

anived.    Young  B and  S had  brought  the  ladder 

down  with  them  from  the  barn,  and  were  already  cutting 
away  the  burning  roof,  and  flinging  the  flaming  brands  into 
the  deep  snow. 

"  Mrs.  Moodie,  have  you  any  pickled  meat  1" 

"  We  have  just  killed  one  of  our  cows,  and  salted  it  for 
winter  stores." 

"  Well,  then,  flmg  the  beef  into  the  snow,  and  let  us  have 
the  brine." 

This  was  an  admirable  plan.  Wherever  the  brine  wetted 
the  shingles,  the  fire  turned  from  it,  and  concentrated  into  one 
spot. 

But  I  had  not  time  to  watch  the  brave  workers  on  the 
roof.  I  was  fast  yielding  to  the  effects  of  over-excitement 
and  fatigue,  when  my  brother's  team  dashed  down  the  clear- 
ing, bringing  my  excellent  old  f-iend,  Miss  B — ~,  and  the 
servant-girl. 

My  brother  sprang  out,  carried  me  back  into  the  house, 


TBB  FIBS. 


and  wrapped  me  up  in  one  of  the  large  blank 


139 


nliniit      i„  o  !•         '  .  —  ""*"  "'"'""■'s  scattered 

about.    In  a  few  mmutes  I  was  seated  with  the  dear  children 
n   he  s  e,gh,  and  on  the  way  to  a  plaeo  of  warmth  and  safety. 

rmur^T  r    "'  '■™'"  ""  '"'^"^''  ""•    ^o  ^-^  li"f 
creatures  feet  were  severely  frozen,  but  were  fortunately  re- 

tte'le''  r  "It  ""u™™S  "-^  '■»^*  ^^•■»-  ^"o  -PP^oched 
wh,le,  the  fnend.  we  had  left  so  actively  employed  at  the 
house  succeeded  in  getting  the  fire  nnder  before  it  had  11 
stroyed  the  walls.  The  only  accident  that  occurred  was  to  t 
poor  dog,  that  Moodie  had  called  Snarleyowc.     He  waTs trtck 

^rbar'™::!  ^  '^^°- '-  -  ^™-  -  -p'  -* 

almost  miraculous.  This  fact  shows  how  much  can  be ZI 
by  persons  working  in  union,  without  b,.  Ue  and  confusion  or 
ru  mng  m  each  other's  w-ay.  Here  were  six  men,  who,  with 
out  the  a.d  of  water,  succeeded  in  saving  a  building,  ;r^h 
a  first  s,ght,  almost  all  of  them  had  deemed  past  CTll. 
after  years,  when  entirely  burnt  out  in  a  disastrous  fire  that 
consumed  almost  all  we  were  worth  in  the  world,  some  four 
hundred  persons  were  present,  with  a  fircengin;  to  second 
he,r  endeavours  yet  all  was  lost.    Every  pe.™  seemed    ' 

IrTtLT    ,      "''  t'  ""  ™^  O'^"™-"  '"""-^diately 

Our  party  was  too  large  to  be  billettcd  upon  one  family, 
rl       TT  ,         <=°"'P'''«'on  upon  Moodie,  myself  and  the 


■J    V\\; 


VOL.  II. 


0* 


% 


It) 


\i  i 


I'.'  t. 

In 


I 


.•^i 


t  .   i 


■ii 


130 


ROUami^Q  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


such  an  exposed  situation.  The  news  of  our  fire  travelled  far 
and  wide.  I  was  reported  to  have  done  prodigies,  and  to  have 
saved  the  greater  part  of  our  household  goods  before  help  ar- 
rived. Reduced  to  plain  prose,  these  prodigies  shrink  into  the 
simple,  and  by  no  means  marvellous  fact,  that  during  the  ex- 
citement I  dragged  out  chests  which,  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances, I  could  not  have  moved ;  and  that  I  was  unconscious 
both  of  the  cold  and  the  danger  to  which  I  was  exposed  while 
working  under  a  burning  roof,  which,  had  it  fallen,  would  have 
buried  both  the  children  and  myself  under  its  ruins.  These 
circumstances  appeared  far  more  alarming,  as  all  real  danger 
does,  after  they  were  past.  Tlie  fright  and  over-exertion  gave 
my  health  a  shock  from  which  I  did  not  recover  for  several 
months,  and  made  me  so  fearful  of  fire,  that  from  that  hour  it 
haunts  me  like  a  nightmare.  Let  the  night  be  ever  so  serene, 
all  stoves  must  be  shut  up,  and  the  hot  embers  covered  with 
ashes,  before  I  dare  retire  to  rest ;  and  the  sight  of  a  burning 
edifice,  so  common  a  spectacle  in  large  towns  in  thi?  country, 
makes  me  really  ill.  This  feeling  was  greatly  increased  after 
a  second  fire,  when,  for  some  torturing  minutes,  a  lovely  boy, 
since  drowned,  was  supposed  to  have  perished  in  the  burning 
house. 

Our  present  fire  led  to  a  new  train  of  circumstances,  for  it 
was  the  means  of  introducing  to  Moodie  a  young  Irish  gentle- 
man, who  was  staying  at  my  brother's  house.     John  E . 

was  one  of  the  best  and  gentlest  of  human  beings.  His  father, 
a  captain  in  the  army,  had  died  while  his  family  were  quite 
young,  and  had  left  his  widow  with  scarcely  any  means  be- 
yond the  pension  she  received  at  her  husband's  death,  to  brintr 
up  and  educate  a  family  of  five  children.  A  handsome,  showy 

woman,  Mrs.  E soon  married  again ;  and  the  poor  lads 

were  thrown  upon  the  -  orld.  The  eldest,  who  had  been  edu- 
cated  for  the  Oiurch,  first  came  to  Canada  in  the  hope  of  get- 


i  \ 


TEE  FIRE. 


ISl 


relied  far 
I  to  have 
!  help  ar- 

into  the 
g  the  ex- 
r  circum- 
3onscious 
sed  while 
luld  have 
.  These 
il  danger 
tion  gave 
?  several 
Lt  hour  it 
10  serene, 
sred  with 
.  burning 

country, 
sed  after 
^ely  boy, 

burning 

es,  for  it 
h  gentle- 

n  E 

is  father, 
ire  quite 
eans  be- 
to  bring 
3,  showy 
oor  lada 
een  edu- 
e  of  get* 


bng  some  professorship  in  the  college,  or  of  opening  a  classi- 
Tou—  f;™- l>»dson,o,  gontle^anl/ we,  Educated 
young  man,  but  eonstitutionally  indole«t-a  natural  defect 
^h  ch  seemed  common  to  all  the  males  of  the  family  and 
wh.eh  was  sufficiently  indicated  by  their  soft,  siikS'^^r 
and  m.ky  complexion.  K_  had  the  good  senJe  to  per! 
mve  that  Canada  was  not  the  country  for  him.     He  spent  » 

Int  t^t  '  "Z        '  °"'  "'  ^'''  ""*  ''^''^^  ^"'h  hi^  ele- 
gant tates  and  pursues;  but  my  husband  strongly  advised 

home      ^'f  'f  "  '"""""  "  "  """^  '"  -"«  f-'ily  "t 
trZlV  '"^^'^"■''  °'"^™^^-     He  became  tutor  and 

travellmg  companion  to  the  young  Lord  M and  has 

smce  got  an  excellent  living.  ' 

John  who  had  followed°his  brother  to  Canada  without  ths 
»eans  of  transporting  himself  back  again,  was  forced  to  re. 

mam,  and  wa^  working  ,vith  Mr.  S for  his  board     H« 

proposed  to  Moodie  working  his  farm  upon  shares ;  and  as  wo 
were  unable  to  hire  a  man,  Moodie  gladly  closed  with  hia 
offer;  and,  durmr  the  time  he  remained  with  us,  we  had  every 

hZr  ',°  7r'^  ^'*  "'^  -■™"g^™ent.  It  was  always  I 
humihatmg  feelmg  to  our  proud  minds,  that  hireling,  should 
w,toess  our  dreadful  struggles  with  poverty,  and  th!  strange 

B  fjornri!T!fJ°'"'''^  '"  order  to  obtain  even  food 
But  John  E-_  had  known  and  e.^iperieneed  all  that  we  had 
suffered  m  h,s  own  person,  and  was  willing  to  share  our  home 
w,th  all  ,ts  pnvations.  Warm-hearted,  sincere,  and  truly 
affect>onate_a  gentleman  in  word,  thought,  and  deed_we 
found  h,s  society  and  cheerful  help  a  great  comfort.  Our  odd 
meals  became  a  subject  of  merriment,  and  the  peppermint  and 
sage  tea  drank  with  a  better  flavour  when  we  iL  one  who 
sympathized  m  all  our  trials,  and  shared  all  our  toils,  to  par- 
take  of  It  with  us.  '      ^ 

The  whole  family  soon  became  attached  to  our  young 


;  •■   i 


132 


HOUGHING  IT  m  THE  BUSH. 


it 


1  li"'.  I 


friend ;  and  after  the  work  of  the  day  was  over,  greatly  wo 

enjoyed  an  hour's  fishing  on  the  lake.     John  E said  that 

we  had  no  right  to  murmur,  as  long  as  we  had  health,  a  happy 
home,  and  plenty  of  fresh  fish,  milk,  and  potatoes.  Early  in 
May,  we  received  an  old  Irishwoman  mto  our  service,  who 
for  four  years  proved  a  most  faithful  and  industrious  creature. 

And  what  with  John  E to  assist  my  husband  on  the  farm, 

and  old  Jenny  to  help  me  to  nurse  the  children,  and  manage 
the  house,  our  affairs,  if  they  were  no  better  in  a  pecuniary 
point  of  view,  at  least  presented  a  more  pleasing  aspect  at 
home.  We  were  always  cheerful,  and  sometimes  contented 
and  even  happy. 

How  great  was  the  contrast  between  the  character  of  our 
new  inmate  and  that  of  Mr.  Malcolm  !  The  sufferings  of  the 
past  year  had  been  greatly  increased  by  the  intolerable  nui- 
sance  of  his  company,  while  many  additional  debts  had  been 
contracted  m  order  to  obtain  luxuries  for  him  which  we  never 
dreamed  of  purchasing  for  ourselves.  Instead  of  mcreasing 
my  domestic  toils,  John  did  all  in  his  power  to  lessen  them  ; 
and  it  always  gr-jved  him  to  see  me  iron  a  shirt,  or  wash  the 
least  article  of  clothing  for  him.  "  You  have  too  much  to  do 
already ;  I  cannot  bear  to  give  you  the  least  additional  work," 
he  would  say.  And  he  generally  expressed  the  greatest  satis- 
faction at  my  method  of  managing  the  house,  and  preparing 
our  sfanple  fare.  The  little  ones  he  treated  with  the  most 
affectionate  kindness,  and  gathered  the  whole  flock  about  his 
knees  the  moment  he  came  in  to  his  meals. 

On  a  wet  day,  when  no  work  could  be  done  abroad, 
Moodie  took  up  his  flute,  or  read  aloud  to  us,  while  John  and 
I  sat  down  to  work.  The  young  emigrant,  early  cast  upon 
the  world  and  his  own  resources,  was  an  excellent  hand  at  the 
needle.  He  would  make  or  mend  a  shirt  wi(3i  the  greatest 
precisicai  and  neatness,  and  out  out  and  manufacture  his  canvas 


THE  FIRE. 


133 


9  canvas 


trowser,  and  loose  summer-coats  with  as  much  adroitness  as 
fe  most  experienced  tailor;  darn  his  socks,  and  mend  l" 
boots  and  shoes,  and  often  volunteered  to  assist  me  in  knUtil 
«.e  coarse  yam  of  the  country  into  socks  for  the  child  n 
whale  he  made  them  moccasins  from  the  dressed  deer-sk  ns 
hat  we  obtained  from  the  Indians.  Scrupulously  neat  and 
ekan  m  h.s  person,  the  only  thing  which  seeme,:  to  ruffle  hU 

h  fTomTh  %r  ":  ?'^  ""'' "' '"^^^^  ■'  »■<>  hated  to  come 
m  from  the  field  with  his  person  and  clothes  begrimed  with 

cWcoal  and  smoke.     Old  Jenny  used  to  laugh^at  him  for 

not  be.ng  able  to  eat  his  meals  without  first  washing  hislnds 

"  O* !  »y  dear  heart,  yer  too  particular  intirely  ;  we've 
no  fme  m  the  woods  to  be  elane."  She  would  say  to  him 
m  answer  to  his  request  for  soap  and  a  towel,  "An"  fsL2 
yer  a  w^antm  1  I  tell  yer  that  that  same  is  not  to  th  fZ 
oatmg  the  throuble  of  making,  it's  little  soap  that  the  m  s: 
th^ss  can  get  to  wash  the  clothes  for  us  and  the  childher 
w.dou    yer  wastin  it  in  makin'  yer  purty  skm  as  whit  Ta 

hi  W-       '  ,     "*'  '"  '°™  •"  'h^  '^■'^  -"l  —h  there ; 
hat  basm  is  b,g  enough,   any  how."     And  John  would 

augh,  and  go  down  to  the  lake  U>  wash,  in  order  to  apnea  e 

IZm     "'Vr™-  '^"^ '""' "  8-t  d,shke ; 

cate,  and  even  regarded  with  an  evil  eye  our  old  pet  eat 
Peppe^mt,  who  had  taken  a  great  fan^  u>  shart  'ht  S^ 

up  with  such  a  nmsance  as  your  friend  EmUia  sends  us  in  the 
shape  of  her  ugly  Tom.     Why,  where  in  the  world  drjlu 
thmk  I  found  that  beast  sleepmg  last  night  ?" 
I  expressed  my  ignorance. 

„  J/°  T  P°?*°:P<'*-    N°''-  y-  wiU  agree  with  me  that 
potatoes  dressed  with  cat's  hair  i,  not  a  very  nice  dish.    Z  ' 


■>R 


■pMMiill 


134 


ROUGIUNa  IT  IN  TEE  BUSS. 


^f< 


i^  P 


next  time  I  cat(;'-  Master  Tom  in  the  potato-pot,  I  will  kill 

"  John,  you  are  not  in  earnest.     Mrs would  never 

forgive  any  injury  done  to  Tom,  who  is  a  great  favourite  » 
^     "Let  her  1....P  him  at  home,  then.    Think  of  the  brute  com- 
mg  a  mile  ih  -ugh  the  woods  to  steal  from  us  all  he  can  find 
and  then  sleeping  off  the  effects  of  his  depredations  in  thJ 
potato-pot." 

I  could  not  help  laughing,  but  I  begged  John  by  no  m  an. 
to  annoy  Emilia  by  hurtir;g  her  cat. 

The  next  day,  while  sitting  in  the  parlour  at  work  I  her-i 
a  dreadful  squall,  and  rushed  to  the  rescue.     John  was  -tand- 
mg,  with  a  flushed  cheek,  grasping  a  large  ,iu±  in  his  hand 
and  Ten  was  lying  dead  at  his  feet. 

"  Oh,  the  poor  cat !" 

"  YfS  1  have  Vq Vd  him ,  but  I  am  sorry  for  it  now.   What 
will  Mrs. sci'  f 

"  She  must  not  kr^ow  :.t.     I  have  told  you  the  story  of  the 

pig  that  Jacob  killed.     Yon  hm  better  bury  it  with  th.  pig  » 

^    John  wa.  ready  s.,vry  for  having  yielded,  in  a  fit  of  pas- 

sion,  to  do  so  cruel  a  thing  ;  yet  a  few  days  after  he  goi  into 

a  fresh  scrape  with  Mrs 's  animals. 

The  hens  were  laying,  up  at  the  barn.  John  was  vrry 
fond  of  fresh  eggs,  but  some  strange  dog  came  daily  and 
sucked  the  eggs.    John  had  vowed  to  kill  the  first  dog  he 

found  in  the  act.     Mr had  a  very  fine  bull-dog,  which 

he  vail  :ed  very  highly ;  but  with  Emilia,  Chowder  was  an 
especial  favourite.  Bitterly  had  she  bemoaned  the  fate  of 
Tom,  and  many  were  the  inquiries  she  made  of  us  as  to  his 
sudden  disappearance. 

One  afternoon  John  ran  into  the  room.     "My  dear  Mrs 
Moodie,  what  is  Mrs 's  dog  like  ?" 

"A  large  bull-dog,  brindled  black  and  white." 


TBB  flSS. 


135 


r  no  m  aiis 


'"Then,  by  Jove,  I've  shot  him !" 

"John   John !   you  mean  me  to  quarrel  in  earnest  with 
my  frjend.     How  could  you  do  it  ?" 

"Why,  how  the  deuce  should  I  l<now  hor  dog  from  an. 
othorl  I  caught  the  big  thief  in  ,he  very  act  of  devouring 
the  eggs  from  under  your  sitting  hen,  and  1  shot  him  dead 
Without  another  thought.  But  1  will  bury  him,  and  she  will 
never  find  ,t  out  a  bit  more  than  she  did  who  killed  the  cat." 

Some  t,me  after  this,  Emilia  retnn.ed  from  a  visit  at 
^        .     Ihe  first  thmg  she  told  me  was  the  loss  of  the  dog 

reward  for  h,s  recovery.  I,  of  course,  was  called  upon  to 
sympath,ze  with  her,  which  I  did  with  a  very  bad  grace  "I 
d,d  not  hke  the  beast,"  I  said;  "he  was  cros^  and  fier",  and 
I  was  afrmd  to  go  up  to  her  house  while  he  was  there  " 

Yes;  but  to  lose  him  so.     It  is  so  provokmg;  and  him 
sueh  a  valuable  animal.     I  could  not  tell'how  deep  y  she  f^ 

stlelrTim."'^  ^"'^  ^'™  '""  ^°"-'  '»  "^^  "»  ^ad 

Instead  of  burying  him  with  the  murdered  pig  and  eat 
John  had  scratched  a  shallow  grav.  in  the  garden  and  con 
cealed  the  dead  brute.  **         '  °" 

After  tea,  Emilia  requested  to  look  at  the  garden;  and  I 
perfectly  unconscous  that  it  contained  the  remains  of  the 

murdered  Chowder,  led  the  way.    Mrs wkn.^      T 

a  handful  of  fme  green  peas,  sudd^^l^^^ett  | trf 
earnestly  at  the  ground,  called  to  me  ^ 

herI*^IMo!r;-f"!r*'-,™'^''"  "^^'''"  ""^  ^'"^  b^i-^d 
nere.     it  looks  like  the  tail  of  a  dog  » 

wm  out.    By  some  strange  chance,  the  grave  that  covered 


t 


m 


4 


iH! 


!   -i 


II 


If. 


% 


-li 


136 


ROUOHING  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


the  mortal  remains  of  Chowder  had  been  disturbed,  and  the 
black  tail  of  the  ("og  was  sticking  out. 

"  What  can  it  be?"  said  I,  with  an  air  of  perfect  innocence. 
*'  Shall  I  call  Jenny,  and  dig  it  up  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  my  dear ;  it  has  a  shocking  smell,  but  it  does  look 
very  much  like  Chowder's  tail." 

"  Impossible !     How  could  it  come  among  my  peas  ?" 

"True.  Besides,  I  saw  Chowder,  with  my  own  eyes 
yesterday,  following  a  team ;  and  George  C hopes  to  re- 
cover him  for  me." 

"Indeed!  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  How  these  mosquitoes 
Bting.     Shall  we  go  back  to  the  house  ?" 

While  we  returned  to  the  house,  John,  who  had  overheard 
the  whole  conversation,  hastily  disinterred  the  body  of  Chow- 
der, and  placed  him  in  the  same  mysterious  grave  with  Tom 
and  the  pig.  Moodie  and  his  friend  finished  logging-up  the 
eight  acres  which  the  former  had  cleared  the  previous  winter ; 
besides  putting  in  a  crop  of  peas  and  potatoes,  and  an  acre  of 
Indian  corn,  reserving  the  fallow  for  fall  wheat;  while  we  had 
the  promise  of  a  splendid  crop  of  hay  off  the  sixteen  acres 
that  had  been  cleared  in  1834.  We  were  all  in  high  spirits, 
and  every  thing  promised  fair,  until  a  very  trifling  circum' 
stance  again  occasioned  us  much  anxiety  and  trouble,  and  was 
the  cause  of  our  losmg  most  of  our  crop. 

Moodie  was  asked  to  attend  a  bee,  which  was  called  to 
construct  a  corduroy  bridge  over  a  very  bad  piece  of  road. 

He  and  J .  E were  obliged  to  go  that  morning  with 

wheat  to  the  mill,  but  Moodie  lent  his  yoke  of  oxen  for  the 
work. 

The  driver  selected  for  them  at  the  bee  was  the  brutal 

M y,  a  savage  Irishman,  noted  for  his  ill-treatment  of 

cattle,  especially  if  the  aftimals  did  not  belong  to  him.     He 
gave  one  of  the  oxen  such  a  severe  blow  over  the  loins  with 


•^M 


THE  FIRE. 


137 


innocence. 


a  handspike  that  the  creature  came  home  perfectly  disabl.H 
just  as  wo  wanted  his  service,  in  the   U-^ZtT^l 

morning  we  went  in  the  canoe  to  cirrv  noL  n  T^       ^ 
™ash  and  to  watch  the  progresstftr^rer,  "      "  "■"-" 

the  life  of  z  v'zr  ::■;-  z  nrr :"  r 

subject  of  prater,  for  the  bread  for  o^r    ivja  Id  t  r.i  u! 
ones  depended  greatly  upon  his  recovery.     We  were  doom  d 

Here,  then,  were  we  left  without  o«n  to  draw  in  our  hay 
0   secure  our  other  crops.     A  neighbour,  who  had  an  odd  ox' 
kmdly  lent  us  the  use  of  him,  when  he  ^as  not  employed  on 
h.   own  farm;  and  John  and  Moodie  gave  their  own  work  .^^ 
the  occasional  loan  of  a  yoke  of  oxen  for  a  day     But  wh  h  1^1 
these  drawbacks,  and  in  spite  of  the  assista^cl  of  o  MJon  y 
and  myself  in  the  field,  a  great  deal  of  the  produce  wol 
damaged  before  it  could  be  secured.    lie  whole  summer  we 
had  to  labour  under  this  disadvantage.     Our  neighbou"  were 
aU  too  busy  to  g,ye  us  any  help,  and  their  own  teams  were 
employed  m  savmg  their  crops.    Fortunately,  the  few  acrea 
of  wheat  we  had  to  reap  were  close  to  the  ba^n,  and  ITZ 


f 


m 


138 


BOUOHJIfa  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


'I 


\t  fclli'i:! 


mm 


ried   the  sheaves  thither  by  hand;   old  Jenny  proving  an 
invalunble  help,  both  in  the  harvest  and  hay  field. 

Still,  with  all  these  misfortunes.  Providence  watched  over 
us  in  a  signal  manner.  We  were  never  luft  entirely  without 
food.  Lii<e  the  widow's  cruise  of  oil,  our  means,  though 
small,  were  never  suffered  to  cease  entirely.  We  had  been 
for  some  days  without  rrjcut,,  vva^;  Moodie  came  running  in 
for  his  gun.  A  grea'  ^i.e-bei:  ,,a8  m  the  wheat-field  at'^the 
edge  of  the  wood,  very  busily  employed  in  helping  to  harvest 
the  crop.  There  was  but  one  bullet,  and  a  charge  or  two  of 
buck-shot,  in  the  house;  but  Moodie  started  to  the  wood  with 
the  single  bullet  in  his  gun,  followed  '     .,        le  terrier  dog 

that  belonged  to  John  E .     Old  Jenny  was  busy  at  the 

wash-tub,  but  the  moment  she  saw  her  master  running  up  the 
clearing,  and  knew  the  cause,  she  left  her  work,  and  snatching 
up  the  carvlug-knife,  ran  after  liim,  that  in  case  the  bear 
should  huve  the  best  of  the  fight,  she  would  be  there  to  help 
"  the  ma.5ther."  Finding  her  shoes  mcommode  her,  she  flung 
them  off;  in  order  to  run  faster.     A  few  minutes  alter,  came 

thQ  report  of  the  gun,  and  I  heard  Moodie  halloo  to  E , 

who  was  cutting  stakes  for  a  fence  in  the  wood.  I  hardly 
thought  it  possible  that  he  could  have  killed  the  boar,  but  1 
ran  to  the  door  to  listen.  The  children  were  all  excitement, 
which  the  sight  of  the  black  monster,  borne  do\vn  the  clearing 
upon  two  poles,  increased  to  the  wildest  demonstrations  of 
joy.  Moodie  and  John  were  cf^.rying  the  prize,  and  old 
Jenny,  brandishing  her  carving-knife,  followed  ii.  the  rear. 

The  rest  of  the  even'-^Er  \vas  spent  ir  skinning  and  cutting 
up  and  salting  the  ugly  ,  .  eature,  whose  flesh  filled  a  barrel 
with  excellent  meat,  in  flavour  resembling  beef,  while  the 
short  graMi  and  juic;  natu.^  oi'  ih^  flesh  v  ve  to  it  ti »»,  tender- 
ness of  mutton.  This  was  quite  a  Godsend,  and  lasted  as 
untU  we  were  able  to  kill  two  large,  fat  ho-a,  in  the  fall. 


!££.:. 


■jjl 
I; 


TEE  FIRE. 


proving  an 

t'atehed  over 
rely  without 
^ans,  though 
V^e  had  been 
I  running  in 
■field  at  the 
g  to  harvest 
B  or  two  of 
}  wood  with 
terrier  dog 
3usy  at  the 
ining  up  the 
id  snatching 
3  the   bear 
lere  to  help 
sr,  she  flung 
after,  came 

,  to  E , 

.     I  hardly 
bear,  but  1 
ixcitement, 
he  clearing 
trations  of 
e,  and  old 
le  rear, 
.nd  cutting 
i  a  barrel 
while  the 
tht^.  tender- 
lasted  as 
3  fall. 


139 


A  few  nighf.  after,  Moodir    nd  I  encountered  the  mate  of 

mother.  Mho  had  come  up  on  a  short  visit  to  the  woods .^  and 
the  even.ng  passed  away  so  pleasantly  that  it  was  nea  'n  id 

very  d    k'.  t^'^  "^''^u  ■''''''  "''"'  "^  ^'^^  '^  -^-"'  -- 

th  ik  and  t'al       Th"  '  ''"  '"'  "^^'^"P^'  ""^  *^^  ^-- 

thick  and  tal       There  was,  in  particular,  one  very  uglv  spot 

Where  a  small  creek  crossed  the  road.     This  creek  o<^.ld  ojy 

atorchofMr.M ;  but  no  torch  could  be  found.     Emilia 

auglicd  at  my  fears;  still,  knowing  what  a  coward  I  was  n 
the  bush  of  a  night,  she  fo...d  up  about  an  inch  of  cin 

m  shT;f  i^  "";:^r  '^^-^ ''-  ''''^^'  entertammen  : 
iDis  sne  put  mto  an  old  lantern. 

creek'"''"'  ""'  '"'*  ^°"  "'"^'  ''"'  "  ^■"'  ^"^^  y°"  "«r  the 

!„  H^'l  T  T™"""® ''"""'' "'"'  °«"''^  '<"•  I'  ^■''^  so  dark 
■n  the  bush,  that  our  dim  candle  looked  like  a  solitary  rd 
4.ark  „.  the  mteuse  surrounding  darkness,  and  scareely  sLed 

at  '-ff-v^-'g.  Hector  running  on  before  us'whon 
1  saw  .,  ,r  of  eyes  glare  upon  us  from  the  edge  of  the 
swamp,  wuh  ti.  green,  bright  light  emitted  by  the^  e,  L  of 

"Did  you  see  those  terrible  eye.,  Moodie ?»  and  I  elunc 
trembling,  to  his  arm.  ^' 

dark  to  see  any  thmg.     lie  light  is  nearly  go„o,  and,  if  you 
dont  q,ueken  your  pace,  and  cross  the  tree  bef.  e  it  goes 


^* 


I' 


ll, 


'  »l 


111 


f 

• 

A 


140 


RoiGiima  IT  m  the  bush. 


ill 


out,  you  will,  perhaps,  get  your  feet  wet  by  falling  into  the 
creek." 

"  Good  heavens  !  I  saw  them  again ;  and  do  just  look  at 
the  dop^." 

Hector  stopped  suddenly,  and,  stretching  himself  along  the 
ground,  his  nose  resting  between  his  fore-paws,  began  to  whine 
and  tremble.  Presently  he  ran  back  to  us,  and  crept  under 
our  feet.  The  cracking  of  bratichcs,  and  the  heavy  tread  of 
some  large  animal,  sounded  close  beside  us. 

Moodie  turned  the  |)en  lantern  in  tho  direction  from 
whence  the  sounds  came,  and  shouted  as  loud  as  he  could,  at 
the  same  time  oudeavouring  to  urge  forward  the  fear-stricken 
dog,  whose  cowardice  was  only  equalled  by  my  own. 

Just  at  thn  critical  moment  the  wick  of  the  candle  flick- 
ered a  moment  in  the  socket,  and  expired.  We  were  left,  in 
perA'ct  darkness,  alone  with  the  bear— for  such  we  supposed 
the  animal  to  be. 

My  heart  beat  audibly ;  a  cold  perspiration  was  streaming 
down  my  face,  but  I  noither  shrieked  nor  attempted  to  run. 
I  don't  know  how  Moodie  got  me  over  the  creek.     One  of 
my  feet  slipped  into  the  v/ater,  but,  expecting,  as  I  did  every 
moment,  to  be  devoured  by  master  Bruin,  that  was  a  thing 
of  no  consequence.     My  husband  was  laughing  at  my  fears, 
and  every  now  and  then  he  turned  towards  our  companion, 
who  continued  following  us  at  no  great  distance,  and  gave  him 
an  encouraging  shout.     Glad  enough  was  I  when  I  saw  the 
gleam  of  the  light  from  our  little  cabin  window  shine  out 
among  the  trees  ;  and,  the  moment  I  got  within  the  clearing, 
I  ran,  without  stopping  until  I  was  safely  within  the  house. 
John  was  sitting  up  for  us,  nursing  Donald.     He  listened 
with  great  interest  to  our  adventure  with  the   bear,  and 
thought  that  Bruin  was  very  good  to  let  us  escape  without 
one  affectionate  hug. 


ing  into  the 

<  just  look  at 

elf  along  the 
Tan  to  whine 
crept  under 
ivy  tread  of 


ectlon  from 
he  could,  at 
fear-stricken 
wn. 

candle  flick- 
were  left,  in 
vc  supposed 

s  streaming 
pted  to  run. 
k.     One  of 
I  did  every 
was  a  thing 
t  my  fears, 
companion, 
id  gave  him 
I  I  saw  the 
'■  shine  out 
le  clearing, 
the  house. 
le  listened 
bear,  and 
pe  without 


TBS  FIRE, 


If 


(( 


Perhaps  it  would  h; 


141 


were 


l)Ci>n  otherwise  ha<l  he 
^loouio,  that  you  had  not  only  killed  hi»  good  ladv 
dimng  sumptuously  olfher  oai-cass  evcy  day  " 

Tho  bear  wa,  dotorminod  to  have  something  in  return  for 

were  disturbed,  about  midnight,  by  an  awful  yell,  and  old 
Jenny  shook  violently  at  our  ehamber  door 

"  Masther,  masthor,  dear  !_Get  up  wid  you  this  moment 
or  tho  bear  will  desthroy  the  eattle  intircly  "  ^ 

was  un,  losed  .ome  ealves  that  we  were  rearing  rushed  into 
th  k,tchen,  elosoly  followed  by  the  larger  beasts,  who  eame 
bellowmg  headlong  down  t.,e  hUl,  pursued  by  the  bear" 

candle.     Mood.e,  m  h>s  nighuhirt,  taking  aim  at  something 
m  the  darkness,  surroundod  by  tho  terrified  animals     dd 

Skirts  of  her  master's  garment,  making  outery  loud  enonrrh  to 

"?r  :;itr  "'  ""^"^ '- ''-  ^-^-^^^^^^:: 

"  Oeh,  maisther,  dear !  don't  timpt  the  ill-conditioned  era- 
«.ur  w,d  charging  too  near;  think  of  the  wif ,  and  the  chndheT 
Let  me  come  at  the  rampaging  baste,  an'  I'll  .tick  the  knife 
mto  the  heart  of  him."  ""^ 

Moodie  fired.  The  bear  retreated  up  the  clearing  with  a 
low  growl.  Moodio  and  Jenny  pur^ued'him  some  way  Lt 
It  w.a3  too  dark  ,„  discern  any  object  at  a  distance.  I,  fo  my 
part,  stood  at  the  open  door,  laughing  until  the  tears  rjn  down 

2  thet:'-r  "■^'i'""^  '"^  "^  "-^   °-™''  "■-  --  ere™ 
and  the,r  tads  earned  gracefully  on  a  level  with  their  backs 

«  they  stared  at  me  a.>d  the  light,  in  blank  astonishmen 


k 


t         'V 


r   I 


«}| 


^H 

h^.w 

1 

,<t..^»i;f^v 


'      •      i 


I 


n 


U  1 


M  , 


142 


RouaniNQ  IT  m  the  bush. 


The  noise  of  the  gun  had  just  roused  John  E from  his 

slumbers.  He  was  no  less  amused  than  myself,  until  he  saw 
that  a  fine  yearling  heifer  was  bleeding,  and  found,  upon  ex- 
amination, that  the  poor  animal,  having  been  in  the  claws  of 
the  bear,  was  dangerously,  if  not  mortally  hurt. 

"  I  hope,"  he  cried,  "  that  the  brute  has  not  touched  my 
foal !"  I  pointed  to  the  black  face  of  the  filly  peeping  over 
the  back  of  an  elderly  cow. 

"  You  see,  John,  that  Bruin  preferred  veal ;  there's  your 
•  horsey,'  as  Dunbar  calls  her,  safe,  and  laughing  at  you." 

Moodie  and  Jenny  now  returned  from  the  pursuit  of  the 

bear.     E fastened  all  the  cattle  into  the  back  yard,  close 

to  the  house.  By  daylight  he  and  Moodie  had  started  in 
chase  of  Bruin,  whom  they  tracked  by  his  blood  some  way 
into  the  bush  j  but  here  he  entirely  escaped  their  search. 


I  f 


\\ 


.Mil-L. 


%l 


THE  OUTBREAK, 


143 


CHAPTEE   IX. 


THE    OUTBREAK. 

rtlHE  long-protracted  harvest  was  at  length  brought  to  a 
^  close.  Moodie  had  procured  another  ox  from  Dummor 
by  giving  a  note  at  six  months'  date  for  the  payment ;  and  he 

and  John  E were  in  the  middle  of  sowing  their  fall  crop 

of  wheat,  when   the   latter  received  a  letter  from  the  old 
country  which  conveyed  to  him  intelligence  of  the  death  of 
his  mother,  and  of  a  legacy  of  two  hundred  pounds.     It  was 
necessary  for  him  to  return  to  claim  the  property,  and  though 
t^e  felt  his  loss  severely,  we  could  not,  without  great  selfish- 
ness, urge  him  to  stay.     John  had  formed  an  attachment  to  a 
young  lady  in  the  country,  who,  like  himself,  possessed  no 
property.      Their   engagement,   which  had   existed   several 
years,  had  been  dropped,  from  its  utter  hopelessness,  by  mu- 
tual  consent.     Still  the  young  people  continued  to  love  each 
other,  and  to  look  forward  to  better  days,  when  their  pros- 
pects might  improve  so  far  that  E would  be  able  to  pur- 

chase  a  bush  farm,  and  raise  a  house,  however  lowly  to  shel 
ter  his  Mary.  He,  like  our  friend  Malcolm,  had 'taken  a 
fancy  to  buy  a  part  of  our  block  of  land,  which  he  could  culti- 
vate in  partnership  with  Moodie,  without  being  obliged  to 
hire,  when  the  same  bam,  cattle,  and  implements  would  serve 
for  both.  Anxious  to  free  himself  from  the  thraldom  of 
debts  which  pressed  him  sore,  Moodie  offered  to  part  with 
two  hundred  acres  at  less  than  they  cost  us,  and  the  bargain 


■A 


?. 


m\ 


s***- 


llll^il 


1 1  '' 


f  i 


m^ 


m 


m 


ROUOIima  IT  IN  THE  Busn. 


"was  to  be  considered  as  concluded  directly  the  money  was 
forthcoming. 

It  vv-as  a  sorrowful  day  when  our  young  friend  left  us ;  he 
had  been  a  constant  inmate  in  the  house  for  nine  months,  and 
not  one  unpleasant  word  had  ever  passed  between  us.  He 
had  rendered  our  sojourn  in  the  woods  more  tolerable  by  his 
society,  and  sweetened  our  bitter  lot  by  his  friendship  and 
sympathy.  We  both  regarded  him  as  a  brother,  and  parted 
with  him  with  sincere  regret.  As  to  old  Jenny,  she  lifted  up 
her  voice  and  wept,  consigning  him  to  the  care  and  protection 
of  all  the  saints  in  the  Irish  calendar.  For  several  days  after 
John  left  us,  a  deep  gloom  pervaded  the  house.  Our  daily 
toil  was  performed  with  less  cheerfulness  and  alacrity ;  we 
missed  him  at  the  evening  board,  and  at  the  evening  fire ; 
and  the  children  asked  each  day,  with  increasing  earnestness, 
when  dear  E would  return. 

Moodie  continued  sowing  his  fall  wheat.  The  task  was 
nearly  completed,  and  the  chill  October  days  were  fast  verg- 
ing upon  w' iter,  when  towards  the  evening  of  one  of  them  he 
contrived — I  know  not  how — to  crawl  down  from  the  field  at 
the  head  of  the  hill,  faint  and  pale,  and  in  great  pain.  He 
had  broken  the  small  bone  of  his  leg.  In  dragging,  among 
the  stumps,  the  heavy  machind  (which  is  made  in  the  form  of 
the  letter  V,  and  is  supplied  with  large  iron  teeth)  had  hitched 
upon  a  :<tump,  and  being  swung  off  again  by  the  motion  of  the 
oxen,  had  come  with  great  force  against  his  leg.  At  first  he 
was  struck  down,  and  for  some  time  was  unable  to  rise  ;  but 
at  length  he  contrived  to  unyoke  the  team,  and  crawled  partly 
on  his  hands  and  knees  down  the  clearing. 

What  a  sad,  melancholy  evening  that  was !  Fortune 
seemed  never  tired  of  playing  us  some  ugly  trick.  The  hope 
which  had  so  long  sustained  me  seemed  about  to  desert  me 
%lt(^Qther ;  when  I  saw  him  on  whom  we  all  depend^  for 


money  was 

,  left  us ;  he 
months,  and 
3en  us.  He 
rable  by  his 
iendship  and 
,  and  parted 
she  lifted  up 
d  protection 
il  days  after 
Our  daily 
ilacrity ;  we 
vening  fire ; 
earnestness, 

he  task  was 
re  fast  verg- 
j  of  them  he 

the  field  at 
b  pain.  He 
ging,  among 
the  form  of 
had  hitched 
lotion  of  the 

At  first  he 
to  rise  j  but 
Lwled  partly 

!    Fortune 

The  hope 

)  desert  me 

upended  for 


THE  OUTBREAK, 


145 


subsistence,  and  whose  kindly  voice  ever  cheered  us  under  the 
pressure  of  calamity,  smitten  down  hopeless,  all  my  courage 
and  faith  in  the  goodness  of  the  Divine  Father  seemed  to  for- 
sake  me,  and  I  wept  long  and  bitterly. 

The  next  morning  I  went  in  search  of  a  messenger  to  send 
to  Peterborough  for  the  doctor ;  but  though  I  found  and  sent 
the  messenger,  the  doctor  never  came.  Perhaps  he  did  not 
like  to  mcur  the  expense  of  a  fatiguing  journey  with  smaU 
chance  of  obtaining  a  sufficient  remuneration. 

Our  dear  sufferer  contrived,  with  assistance,  to  bandage 
his  leg;  and  after  the  first  week  of  rest  had  expired,  ho 
amused  himself  with  making  a  pair  of  crutches,  and  in  manu- 
factunng  Indian  paddles  for  the  canoe,  axe-handles,  and  voked 
for  the  oxen.  It  was  wonderful  with  what  serenity  he"  bore 
this  unexpected  affliction.  Buried  in  the  obscurity  of  those 
woods,  we  knew  nothing,  heard  nothing  of  the  political  state 
of  the  country,  and  were  little  aware  of  the  revolution  which 
was  about  to  work  a  great  change  for  us  and  for  Canada. 

The  weather  continued  remarkably  mild.  The  first  great 
snow,  which  for  years  had  ordinarily  fallen  between  the  10th 
and  15th  of  November,  still  kept  ofl.  November  passed  on 
and  as  iA\  our  firewood  had  to  be  chopped  bv  old  Jenny  du- 
ring the  lameness  of  my  husband,  I  was  truly 'grateful  to  God 
for  the  continued  mildness  of  the  weather.  On  the  4th  of 
December— that  great  day  of  the  outbreak—Moodie  was  de- 
termined to  take  advantage  of  the  open  state  of  the  lake  ta 

carry  a  large  grist  up  tK>  Y 's  mill.    I  urged  upon  him  the 

danger  of  a  man  attempting  to  manage  a  C;inoe  in  rapid  water 
who  was  unable  to  stand  without  crutches ;  but  Moodie  saw 
that  the  children  would  need  bread,  and  he  was  anxious  to 
make  the  experiment. 

Finding  that  I  could  not  mduce  him  to  ^ve  ud  the  journey 
♦  «letermined  to  go  with  him.    Old  Wittals,  wh^  happened  to 


I* 


n 


■-«fljjjl»-- 


i  I 


I 


i( 


I  ■ 


!   .f 


146 


ROUGmNG  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


come  down  that  moniing,  assisted  in  placing  the  bags  of  wheat 
in  the  little  vessel,  and  helped  to  place  Moodie  at  the  stern. 
"With  a  sad,  foreboding  spirit  I  assisted  to  push  off  from  the 
shore.  The  air  was  raw  and  cold,  but  our  sail  was  not  with- 
out its  pleasure.  The  lake  was  very  full  from  the  heavy  rains, 
and  the  canoe  bounded  over  the  waters  with  a  free,  springy 
motion.  A  slight  frost  had  hung  every  little  bush  and  spray 
along  the  shores  with  sparkling  crystals.  The  red  pigeon-ber- 
ries, shining  through  their  coating  of  ice,  looked  like  cornelian 
beads  set  in  silver,  and  strung  from  bush  to  bush.  We  found 
the  rapids  at  the  entrance  of  Bessikakoon  Lake  very  hard  to 
st2m,  and  were  so  often  carried  back  by  the  force  of  the  water, 
that,  cold  as  the  air  was,  the  great  exertion  which  Moodie  had 
to  make  use  of  to  obtain  the  desired  object,  brought  the  perspi- 
ration oat  in  big  drops  upon  his  forehead.  His  long  confine- 
ment to  the  house  and  low  diet  had  rendered  him  very  weak. 

The  old  miller  received  us  in  the  most  hearty  and  hospita- 
ble manner  ;  and  complimented  me  upon  my  courage  in  ven- 
turing upon  the  water  in  such  cold,  rough  weather.  Norah 
was  married,  but  the  kind  Betty  provided  us  an  excellent  din- 
ner, while  we  waited  for  the  grist  to  be  ground. 

It  was  near  four  o'clock  when  we  started  on  our  return. 
If  there  had  been  danger  in  going  up  the  stream,  there  was 
more  in  coming  down.  The  wind  had  changed,  the  air  was 
frosty,  keen,  and  biting,  and  Moodie's  paddle  came  up  from 
every  dip  into  the  water,  loaded  with  ice.  For  niy  part,  I 
had  only  to  sit  still  at  the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  as  we  floated 
rapidly  down  with  wind  and  tide.  At  the  landing  we  were 
met  by  old  Jenny,  who  had  a  long  story  to  tell  us,  of  which 
we  could  make  neither  head  nor  tail — how  some  gentleman 
had  called  during  our  absence,  and  left  a  large  paper,  all 
about  the  Queen  and  the  Yankees ;  that  there  was  war  be- 
tween Canada  and  the  States  j  that  Toronto  had  been  burnt, 


THE  OUTBREAK,  j^^ 

rebellion.  ^     ^  "'"™  ""e  unnatural 

A  letter  from  my  sister  explained  the  natura  nf  ,h„      * 
break,  and  the  astonishn>ent  with  mT  {       °''*' 

■■eoeived  by  all  the  settlers"^  th    bu"'     m;."?,^  '^'!''"' 
sister's  husband  had  already  gone  off  '„  ^^  "  "'"^  ""^ 

mero  is  bands  of  „pn,I         ^    u  J"'"  ""'""  "f  ""e  nu- 

quarters  t?mal'o    he  T-7fV""  ^""^'""S  from  all 
was  besieged  bTthlrebelf  T'"'  *''"''  ''  ™'  -'" 

-fferMoo'die  to  1  a™  hoi  rh'        '  "'""'  ""^  '•°'  '<> 
the  spirit  of  mv  hush .n^  P"""'""  ""'^  '"''''  >>"» 

What';.  eonsrdttZtre:?;rd;n^^^^^^^^ 

night,     ^e  talked  SL  stt    etiriir  ''''  '''' 
mg  separation,  and  the  probability  It  .Yth  '  °"'  '^'"" 

to  leave  them,  w.re  ervin,  and    !!  ™'  P^'P"""? 

heart  was  too  deer  ylfelT^  ?'?h  ™™',  "^  ""^"^  "'^ 
^ence,  and  he  rose  to  ^7  .  '  "''"  P""''^''  ''™'- '» 
company  hi  J  ZlT..  1"'""™/  '■^'  -<>  ^"-1  to  ao- 


company  him  through  the  wood  as  far 


as  my  sister  Mrs. 


%M  il 


t'l 


143 


ROFOmm  IT  IN  THE  BUSIT. 


i ;  '  •« 


f ' 


I    ■  1 


I         i 


'iaa-w 


^Hl^^ 

4 

BmC   ;.-X«:. 

I 

1, 

BKMii 

Mb  ' 

L 

Mpy??"^ 

RDBW          I 

ii 

1 

1 

U  ". 


T 's.  The  day  was  like  our  destiny,  cold,  dark,  and  lower- 
ing. I  gave  the  dear  invalid  his  crutches,  and  we  commenced 
our  sorrowful  walk.  Then  old  Jenny's  lamentations  burst 
forth,  as,  flinging  her  arms  round  my  husband's  neck,  she 
kissed  and  blessed  him  after  the  fashion  of  her  country. 

"  Och  hone !  och  hone !"  she  cried,  wringing  her  hands, 
"  masther  dear,  why  will  you  lave  the  wife  and  the  childher  1 
The  poor  crathur  is  breakin'  her  heart  intirely  at  partui'  wid 
you.  Shure  an'  the  war  is  nothin'  to  you,  that  you  must  be 
goin'  into  danger ;  an'  you  wid  a  broken  leg.  Och  hone  !  och 
hone !  come  back  to  your  home — you  will  be  kilt,  and  thin 
what  v/ill  become  of  the  wife  and  the  wee  bairns  ?" 

Her  cries  and  lamentations  followed  us  into  the  wood.  At 
m^'  sister's,  Moodie  and  I  parted ;  and  with  a  heavy  heart  I 
retraced  my  steps  through  the  wood.  For  once,  I  lorgot  all 
my  fears.  I  never  felt  the  cold.  Sad  tears  were  flowing  ovei 
my  cheeks ;  when  I  entered  the  house,  hope  seemed  to  have 
deserted  me,  and  for  upwards  of  an  hour  I  lay  upon  the  bed 
and  wept.  Poor  Jenny  did  her  best  to  comfort  me,  but  all  joy 
had  vanished  with  him  who  was  my  light  of  life.  Left  in  the 
most  absolute  uncertainty  as  to  the  real  state  of  public  affairs, 
I  could  only  conjecture  what  might  be  the  result  of  this  sud- 
den outbreak.  Several  poor  settlers  called  at  the  house  during 
the  day,  on  their  way  down  to  Peterborough ;  but  they 
brought  with  them  the  most  exaggerated  accounts.  There  had 
been  a  battle,  they  said,  with  the  rebels,  and  the  loyalists  had 
been  defeated ;  Toronto  was  besieged  by  sixty  thousand  men, 
and  all  the  men  in  the  backwoods  were  ordered  to  march  in- 
stantly to  the  relief  of  the  city. 

In  the  evening,  I  received  a  note  from  Emilia,  who  was  at 
Peterborough,  in  which  she  informed  me  that  my  husband 

had  borrowed  a  horse  of  Mr.  S ,  and  had  joined  a  large 

party  of  two  hundred  volunteers,  who  had  left  that  morning 


Tim  OUTBREAK. 


149 


and  lower- 
lommenced 
tions  burst 

neck,  she 
ntry. 

her  hands, 
B  childher  ? 
partin'  wid 
Du  must  be 

hone !  och 
t,  and  thin 

wood.  At 
ivy  heart  I 
I  ibrgot  all 
owing  ovet 
led  to  \id.Y<^ 
•on  the  bed 
but  all  joy 
Left  in  the 
blic  affairs, 
Df  this  sud- 
mse  during 
but  they 
There  had 
•yalists  had 
usand  men, 
)  march  in- 

v^ho  was  at 
ly  husband 
tied  a  large 
it  morning 


for  Toronto ;  that  there  had  been  a  battle  with  the  insurgents; 
that  Colonel  Moodie  had  been  killed,  and  the  rebels  had  re* 
treated ;  and  that  she  hoped  my  husband  would  return  in  a 
few  days.     The  honest  backwoodsmen,  perfectly  ignorant  of 
the  abuses  that  had  led  to  the  present  position  of  things,  re- 
garded the  rebels  as  a  set  of  monsters,  for  whom  no  punish- 
ment  was  too  severe,  and  obeyed  the  call  to  arms  with  en- 
thusiasm.    The    leader  of  the  insurgents  must  have  been 
astonished  at  the  rapidity  with  which  a  large  force  was  col- 
lected, as  if  by  magic,  to  repel  his  designs.     A  great  number 
of  these  volunteers  were  half-pay  officers,  many  of  whom  had 
fought  in  the  continental  wars  with  the  armies  of  Napoleon, 
and  would  have  been  found  a  host  in  themselves. 

In  a  week,  Moodie  returned.  So  many  volunteers  had 
poured  into  Toronto  that  the  number  of  friends  was  likely 
to  prove  as  disastrous  as  that  of  enemies,  on  account  of  tho 
want  of  supplies  to  maintain  them  all.  The  companies  from 
the  back  townships  had  been  remanded,  and  I  received  wi.h 
delight  my  own  again.  But  this  reunion  did  not  last  long. 
Several  regiments  of  militia  were  formed  to  defend  the 
colony,  and  to  my  husband  was  given  the  rank  of  captain  in 
one  of  those  then  stationed  in  Toronto. 

On  the  20th  of  January,  1838,  he  bade  us  a  long  adieu. 
I  was  left  with  old  Jenn^^  and  the  children  to  take  care  of  the 
farm.  It  was  a  sad,  dull  time.  I  could  bear  up  against  all 
trials  with  him  to  comfort  and  cheer  me,  but  his  long-con- 
tinued absence  cast  a  gloom  upon  my*spirit  not  easily  to  be 
shaken  off.  Still  his  very  appointment  to  this  situation  was  a 
signal  act  of  mercy.  From  liis  full  pay,  he  was  enabled  to 
liquidate  many  pressing  debts,  and  to  send  home  from  time 
to  time  sums  of  money  to  procure  necessaries  for  m^  and 
the  little  ones.  These  remittances  were  greatly  wanted  •  but 
I  demurred  before  laymg  them  out  for  comforts  which  we 


■»! 


lit 


I 


THte*~ 


mm 


itl 


1:1  I 

I.  ^ 


160 


BOUGUINO  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


ii 


had  been  so  long  used  to  dispense  with.  It  seemed  almost 
crimmal  to  purchase  any  article  of  luxury,  such  as  tea  and 
sugar,  while  a  debt  remained  unpaid. 

The  Y 's  were  very  pressing  for  the  thirty  pounds  that 

wo  owed  them  for  the  clearing  ;  but  they  had  such  a  firm  reli- 
ance  upon  the  honour  of  my  husband,  that,  poor  and  pressed 
for  money  as  they  were,  they  never  sued  us.  I  thought  it 
would  be  a  pleasing  surprise  to  Moodie,  if,  with  the  sums  of 
money  which  I  occasionally  received  from  him,  I  could  dimiu- 
ish  this  debt,  which  had  always  given  him  the  greatest  unea- 
siness;  and,  my  resolution  once  formed,  I  would  not  allow 
any  temptation  to  shako  it.  The  money  was  always  trans- 
mitted  to  Dummer.  I  only  reserved  the  sum  of  two  dol'^rs 
a-month,  to  pay  a  little  lad  to  chop  wood  for  us.     After  a 

time,  I  began  to  think  the  Y 's  were  gifted  with  second- 

sight ;  for  I  never  received  a  money-letter,  but  the  very  next 
day  I  was  sure  to  see  some  of  the  family. 

Just  at  this  period  I  received  a  letter  from  a  gentleman 
requesting  me  to  write  for  a  magazine  (the  Literary  Garland) 
just  started  in  Montreal,  with  promise  to  remunerate  me  for 
my  labours.    Such  an  application  was  like  a  gleam  of  licrht 
springing  up  in  the  darkness ;  it  seemed  to  promise  the  da^- 
nig  of  a  brighter  day.     I  had  never  been  able  to  turn  my 
thoughts  towards  literature  during  my  sojourn  in  the  bush 
When  the  body  is  fatigued  with  labour,  unwonted  and  beyond 
Its  strength,  the  mmd  is  in  no  condition  for  mental  occupation 
The  year  before,  I  'had  been  requested  by  an  American 
author,  of  great  merit,  to  contribute  to  the  North  American 
i?e^*.».,  published  for  several  years  in  Philadelphia  j  and  he 
promised  to  remunerate  me  in  proportion  to  the  success  of 
the  work.     I  had  contrived  to  write  several  articles  after  the 
children  were  asleep,  though  the  expense  even  of  the  station- 
ery and  the  postage  of  the  manuscripts  was  severely  felt  by 


THE  OUTBREAK. 


151 


one  so  destitute  of  means;  but  the  hope  of  being  of  the  least 
service  to  those  dear  to  me  cheered  me  to  the  task.  I  never 
realized  any  thing  from  that  source  ;  but  I  believe  it  was  not 
the  fault  of  the  editor.  Several  other  American  editors  had 
written  to  me  to  furnish  them  with  articles  ;  but  I  was  unable 
to  pay  the  postage  of  heavy  packets  to  the  States,  and  they 
•could  not  reach  their  ^.stination  without  being  paid  to  the 
frontier.     Thus,  all  chance  of  making  any  thing  in  that  way 

had  been  abandoned.     I  wrote  to  Mr.  L ,  and  frankly  in. 

formed  him  how  I  was  situated.     In  the  most  liberal  manner 
he  offered  to  pay  the  postage  on  all  manuscripts  to  his  office' 
and  left  me  to  name  my  own  terms  of  remuneration.     This 
opened  up  a  new  era  in  my  existence;  and  for  many  years 
I  have  found  in  this  generous  man,  to  whom  I  am  still  person- 
ally  unknown,  a  steady  friend.     I  actually  shed  tears  of  jov 
over  the  first  twenty-dollar  bill  I  received  from  Montreal 
It  was  my  oNvn  ;  I  had  earned  it  with  my  own  hand  ;  and  it 
seemed  to  my  delighted  fancy  to  form  the  nucleus  out  of 
which  a  future  independence  for  my  family  might  arise      I 
no  longer  retired  to  bed  when  the  labours  of  the  day  were 
over     I  sat  up,  and  wrote  by  the  light  of  a  strange  sort  of 
candles,  that  Jenny  called  «  sluts,"  and  which  the  old  woman 
manufactured  out  of  pieces  of  old  rags,  twisted  together  and 
dipped  m  pork  lard,  and  stuck  in  a  bottle.     They  did  not  give 
a  bad  light,  but  it  took  a  great  many  of  them  to  la,st  me  for  a 
few  hours. 

_  The  faithful  old  creature  regarded  my  writings  with  a 
lealous  eye.  «  An',  shure,  it's  killin'  yerself  that  you  are  in- 
t.re  y  You  were  thin  enough  before  you  took  to  the  pen; 
scribblm  an  scrabblin'  when  you  should  be  in  bed  an'  asleep 
Wnat  good  will  it  be  to  the  childhren,  dear  heart !  if  you  die 
atore  your  time,  by  wastm'  your  strength  afther  that  fashion  1" 
Jenny  never  could  conceive  the  use  of  books.    "Shure 


>  I 


j#(i 


■s^i^rr-        ,  ipF-" 


152 


nommm  rr  in  2.  ;  bush. 


ii 


^f 


we  can  live  and  die  widout  them.  It's  only  a  waste  of  time 
bothcrin'  your  brains  wid  the  like  of  them  ;  bui,  thank  good- 
ness!  the  lard  will  soon  be  all  done,  an'  thin  wo  «liaJl  hear 
you  spakin'  again,  instead  of  sittin'  there  doubled  up  all 
night,  desthroying  your  eyes  wid  poriu'  over  the  dinhy 
writin'."  ^ 

Aa  the  sugar-making  season  drew  near,  Jenny  concei  v^ed 
the  bold  thought  of  making  a  good  lump  of  sugar,  that  the 
childher"  might  have  something  to  «ate"  with  their  bread 
dunng  the  summer.  We  had  no  sugar-kettle,  but  a  neigh- 
bour promised  to  lend  us  his,  and  to  give  us  twenty-eight 
troughs,  on  condition  that  we  gave  him  half  the  sugar  we 
made.  These  torms  were  rather  hard,  but  Jenny  was  so 
anxious  to  fiilfil  the  darling  object  that  we  consented.  Llttlo 
Sol  and  the  old  woman  made  some  fifty  troughs  more,  the 
trees  were  duly  tapped,  a  shanty  in  the  bush  was  erected  of 
small  logs  and  brush  and  covered  in  at  the  top  with  straw  • 
and  the  old  M'oman  and  Solomon,  the  liired  boy,  commenced 
operations. 

The  very  first  day,  a  terrible  accident  happened  to  us ;  a 
large  log  fell  upon  the  sugar-kettle— the  borrowed  sugar-ket- 
tie— and  cracked  it,  spUlmg  aU  the  sap,  and  rendering  the 
vessel,  which  had  qok  •Ixir  dollars,  useless.  We  were  all  in 
dismay.  Just  at  \h'^',  lioie  Old  Wittals  happened  to  pass,  on 
his  way  to  Peterboro>igh.  He  very  good-naturedly  offered  to 
get  the  kettle  repaired  for  us  ;  which,  he  said,  could  be  easily 
done  by  a  rivet  and  an  iron  hoop.  But  where  was  the  money 
to  come  from !  I  thought  awhile.  Katie  had  a  magnificent 
coral  and  bells,  the  gift  of  her  godfather ;  I  asked  the  dear 

child  if  she  would  give  it  to  buy  another  kettle  for  Mr.  T . 

She  said,  « I  would  give  ten  times  as  much  to  help  mamma.'*' 

I  wrote  a  little  note  to  Emilia,  who  was  still  at  her  father's  j 

ana  Mr.  W ,  the  storekeeper,  sent  us  a  fine  sugar-kettle 


THE  OUTBREAK, 


itc  of  time 
hank  good- 
bhall  hoar 
ltd  up  all 
the  diithy 

conceived 
r,  that  the 
heir  bread 
t  a  neigh- 
enty-eight 
sugar  we 
y  "was  so 
d.  Llttlo 
more,  the 
srected  of 
ith  straw ; 
mmenced 

to  us ;  a 
sugar-ket- 
ering  the 
ere  all  in 
)  pass,  on 
offered  to 
be  easily 
le  money 
agnificent 

the  dear 
r.T . 


153 


)» 


namma 
father's ; 
jar-kettle 


back  by  Witfals,  and  also  the  other  aended,  in  exchange  for 
the  useless  piece  of  /iuery.  We  had  now  two  kettles  at  work, 
to  the  joy  of  Jenny,  who  declared  that  it  was  a  lucky  fairy 
who  had  broken  the  old  kettle. 

While  Juiuiy  was  engaged  in  boiling  and  ■  .ering  the  sap 
in  the  bush,  1  sugared  olf  the  syrup  in  the  h>  e ;  an  operation 
watched  b)  the  chUdren  with  intense  interest.  After  standhig 
all  day  over  the  hot  stove-fire,  it  was  quite  a  refreshment  to 
breathe  tl.o  pure  air  at  night.  Every  evening  I  ran  up  to  see 
Jenny  in  the  bush,  singing  and  boiling  down  the  sap  in  the 
front  of  her  little  shanty.  Th.  old  womuii  was  in  her  element, 
and  afraid  of  nothing  under  the  stars ;  she  slept  beside  her 
kettles  at  night,  and  snapped  her  fin^'ors  at  the  idea  of  the 
least  danger.      She  was  sometimes  er  despotic  in  her 

treatment  of  her  attendant,  Sol.  On  ,ming,  in  particular, 
she  bestowed  upon  the  lad  a  severe  cuffing.  I  ran  up  the 
clearing  to  the  rescue,  when  my  ears  were  assailed  by  the 
"  boo-hoohig"  of  the  boy. 

"What  has  happened?  Why  do  you  beat  the  chUd, 
Jenny  V 

"  It's  jist,  thin,  I  that  will  bate  him — the  unlucky  omad- 
hawn !  Has  he  not  spilt  and  spiled  two  buckets  of  syrup, 
that  I  have  been  the  live-long  night  bilin'.  Sorra  wid  him ; 
I'd  like  to  strip  the  skin  off  him,  I  would!  Musha!  but  'tis 
enough  to  vex  a  saint." 

"  Ah,  Jenny !"  blubbered  the  poor  boy, «  but  you  have  no 
mercy.  You  forget  that  I  have  but  one  eye,  and  that  I  could 
not  see  the  root  which  caught  my  foot  and  threw  me  down.'* 

"  Faix !  an'  'tis  a  pity  that  you  have  the  one  eye,  when 
you  don't  know  how  to  make  a  betther  use  of  it,"  muttered  the 
angry  dame,  as  she  picked  up  the  pails,  and,  pushing  him  on 
before  her,  beat  a  retreat  into  the  bush. 

I  was  heartily  sick  of  the  sugar-making,  long  before  the 


VOL.  n. 


n* 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


■  56 
1^ 


2.8 

m 

14.0 


1.4 


[2.5 
2.2 

2.0 
1.8 

1.6 


^    APPLIED  INA^GE 


Inc 


1653   East    Main   Street 

Rochester,   New  York        U609       USA 

(716)   482  -  OJOO  -  Phone 

(716)    288-  5989  -  Fax 


''^ 


144 


BOUGIIINO  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


was  to  be  considered  as  concluded  directly  the  money  was 
forthcoming. 

It  was  a  sorrowful  day  when  our  young  friend  left  us ;  he 
had  been  a  constant  inmate  in  the  house  for  nine  months,  and 
not  one  unpleasant  word  had  ever  passed  between  us.  He 
had  rendered  our  sojourn  in  the  woods  more  tolerable  by  his 
society,  and  sweetened  our  bitter  lot  by  his  friendship  and 
sympathy.  We  both  regarded  him  as  a  brother,  and  parted 
with  him  with  sincere  regret.  As  to  old  Jenny,  sho,  lifted  up 
her  voice  and  wept,  consigning  him  to  the  care  and  protection 
of  all  the  saints  in  the  Irish  calendar.  For  several  days  after 
John  left  us,  a  deep  gloom  pervaded  the  house.  Our  daily 
toil  was  performed  with  less  cheerfulness  and  alacrity ;  we 
missed  him  at  the  evening  board,  and  at  the  evening  fire ; 
and  the  children  asked  each  day,  with  increasing  earnestness, 
when  dear  E would  return. 

Moodie  contiimed  sowing  liis  fall  wheat.  The  task  was 
nearly  completed,  and  the  chill  October  days  were  fast  verg- 
mg  upon  winter,  when  towards  the  evening  of  one  of  them  he 
contrived — 1  know  not  how — to  crawl  down  from  the  field  at 
the  head  of  the  hill,  faint  and  pale,  and  in  great  pain.  He 
had  broken  the  small  bone  of  his  leg.  In  dragging,  among 
the  stumps,  the  heavy  machine  (which  is  made  in  the  form  of 
the  letter  V,  and  is  supplied  with  large  iron  teeth)  had  hitched 
upon  a  stump,  and  being  swung  oflT  again  by  the  motion  of  the 
oxen,  had  come  with  gi-eat  force  against  his  leg.  At  first  he 
was  struck  down,  and  for  some  time  was  unable  to  rise  ;  but 
at  length  he  contrived  to  unyoke  the  team,  and  crawled  partly 
on  his  hands  and  knees  down  the  clearing. 

What  a  sad,  melancholy  evening  that  was !  Fortune 
seemed  never  tired  of  playing  us  some  ugly  trick.  The  hope 
which  had  so  long  sustained  me  seemed  about  to  desert  me 
altogether ;  when  I  saw  him  on  whom  we  all  depended  for 


'.  ♦■  ^1 


THE  OUTBREAK, 


145 


money  vras 

loft  us ;  he 
months,  and 
!en  us.  He 
rable  by  his 
endship  and 

and  parted 
iho  lifted  up 
i  protection 
\  days  after 
Our  daily 
lacrity ;  we 
veiling  fire ; 
earnestness, 

le  task  was 

e  fast  verg- 

of  them  he 

the  field  at 

pain.     He 

jing,  among 

:he  form  of 

had  hitched 

otion  of  the 

At  first  he 

0  rise ;  but 

vvled  partly 

!     Fortune 

The  hope 

desert  mo 

pended  for 


subsistence,  and  whose  kindly  voice  ever  cheered  us  under  the 
pressure  of  calamity,  smitten  down  hopeless,  all  my  courage 
and  faith  in  the  goodness  of  the  Divi?^e  Father  seemed  to  for- 
sake  me,  and  I  wept  long  and  bitterly. 

The  next  morning  I  went  in  search  of  a  messenger  to  send 
to  Peterborough  for  the  doctor  ;  but  tho  igl.  I  found  and  sent 
the  messenger,  the  doctor  never  came.  Perhaps  he  did  not 
like  to  incur  the  expense  of  a  fatiguing  journey  with  small 
chance  of  obtaining  a  sufficient  remuneration. 

Our  dear  sufTsrer  contrived,  with  assistance,  to  bandage 
his  leg;  and  after  the  first  week  of  rest  had  expired,  he 
amused  iiimself  with  making  a  pair  of  crutches,  and  in  manu- 
facturing  Indian  paddles  for  the  canoe,  axe-handles,  and  yokes 
for  the  oxen.  It  was  wonderful  with  what  serenity  he  bore 
this  unexpected  affliction.  Buried  in  the  obscurity  of  those 
woods,  we  knew  nothing,  heard  nothing  of  the  political  state 
of  the  country,  and  were  little  aware  of  the  revolution  which 
was  about  to  work  a  great  change  for  us  and  for  Canada. 

The  weather  continued  remarkably  mild.  Tlie  first  great 
snow,  which  for  years  had  ordmarily  fallen  between  the  10th 
and  15th  of  November,  still  kept  ofl:  November  passed  on, 
and  as  all  our  firewood  had  to  be  chopped  by  old  Jenny  du^ 
ring  the  lameness  of  my  husband,  I  was  truly  grateful  to  God 
for  the  continued  mildness  of  the  weather.  On  the  4th  of 
December— that  great  day  of  the  outbreak— Moodie  was  de- 
termined to  take  advantage  of  the  open  state  of  the  lake  to 

carry  a  large  grist  up  to  Y 's  mill.    I  urged  upon  him  the 

danger  of  a  man  attempting  to  manage  a  canoe  in  rapid  water, 
who  was  unable  to  stand  without  crutches ;  but  Moodie  saw 
that  the  children  would  need  bread,  and  he  was  anxious  to 
make  the  experiment. 

Finding  that  I  could  not  mduce  him  to  give  up  the  journey, 
I  determined  to  go  with  him.    Old  Wictals,  who  happened  to 

VOL.  II.  7 


%{ 


-ti 


\^ 


ift 


B 


til; 


rm 


H 


m 


'^H':  l{  'f 


I 


"jT"  it^^ 


ifi 


146 


ROUGinNG  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


come  down  that  morning,  assisted  in  placing  the  bags  of  wheat 
in  the  little  vessel,  and  helped  to  place  I-Ioodic  at  the  stern. 
With  a  sad,  foreboding  spirit  I  assisted  to  push  off  from  the 
shore.  The  air  was  raw  and  cold,  but  our  sail  was  not  with- 
out its  pleasure.  Tlie  lake  was  very  full  from  the  heavy  rains, 
and  the  canoe  bounded  over  the  waters  with  a  free,  springy 
motion.  A  slight  frost  had  hung  every  little  bush  and  spray 
along  the  shores  with  sparkling  crystals.  The  red  pigeon-ber- 
ries, shining  through  their  coating  of  ice,  looked  like  cornelian 
beads  set  in  silver,  and  strung  from  bush  to  bush.  We  found 
the  rapids  at  the  entrance  of  Bessikakoon  Lake  very  hard  to 
stem,  and  were  so  often  carried  back  by  the  force  of  the  water, 
that,  cold  as  the  air  was,  the  great  exertion  which  Moodie  had 
to  make  use  of  to  obtain  the  desired  object,  brought  the  perspi- 
ration out  in  big  drops  upon  his  forehead.  His  long  v-ionfine- 
ment  to  the  house  and  low  diet  had  rendered  him  very  weak. 

The  old  miller  received  us  in  the  most  hearty  and  hospita- 
ble manner ;  and  complimented  me  upon  my  courage  in  ven- 
turing upon  the  water  m  such  cold,  rough  weather.  Norah 
was  married,  but  the  kind  Betty  provided  us  an  excellent  din- 
ner, while  we  waited  for  the  grist  to  be  ground. 

It  was  near  four  o'clock  when  we  started  on  our  return. 
If  there  had  been  danger  in  going  up  the  stream,  there  was 
more  in  coming  down.  The  wind  had  chan^  '  the  air  wa-s 
frosty,  keen,  and  biting,  and  Hoodie's  paddl  xne  up  from 
every  dip  into  the  water,  loaded  with  ice.  Fc  •  my  part,  I 
had  only  to  sit  still  at  the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  as  we  floated 
rapidly  down  with  wind  and  tide.  At  the  lauding  we  were 
met  by  old  Jenny,  who  had  a  long  story  to  tell  us,  of  which 
we  could  make  neither  head  nor  tail — how  some  gentleman 
had  called  during  our  absence,  and  left  a  large  paper,  all 
about  the  Queen  and  the  Yankees ;  that  there  was,  war  be- 
tween Canada  and  the  States  j  that  Toronto  had  been  burnt, 


■^\iA.  v 


ags  of  wheat 
at  the  stern. 
)ir  from  the 
ras  not  with- 
heavy  rains, 
free,  springy 
h  and  spray 
I  pigeon-ber- 
ke  cornelian 
We  found 
cry  hard  to 
)f  the  water, 
Moodie  had 
It  the  perspi- 
ong  oonfine- 
very  weak, 
and  hospita- 
rage  in  ven- 
ler.  Norah 
scellent  din- 

our  return. 
1,  there  was 
the  air  wa-; 
rue  up  from 
■  my  part,  I 
i  we  floated 
ng  we  were 
IS,  of  which 

gentleman 
3  paper,  all 
v&h  war  be- 
been  burnt, 


rvK-  OUTBREAK, 


147 


and  the  governor  killed,  and  I  know  not  what  other  strange 
and   monstrous   staten.cnt.s.      After   much   fatigue,   Moodio 
chmbed  t  e  hill,  and  we  were  once  more  safeVou    o   n 
fircs.de      Here  we  found  the  elucidation  of  Jenny's  marv 
ous  tales:  a  copy  of  the  Queen's  proclamation,  calling  upon 

rIbeS.  '         ""  ^'  ^'^^^   ^"  P^^"^"^^  ^--  ^^^  -— 

brefk  'an7tl!r"."':"'"  ^^P^"'"'  ^^^  ^^^^^  «^  ^^e  out- 
break,  and  the  astonishment  with  which  the  news  had  been 

~hu  r"df  rr^^^  '''  '''  ''''''     ''y  b-ther    nclX 
sisters  husband  had  already  gone  off  to  join  some  of  the  nu 

merous  bands  of  gentlemen  who  ^vere  collecting  fron^^ 

quarters  to  march  to  the  aid  of  Toronto,  which  tt  was  sa  d 

was  bes,eged  by  the  rebel  force.     She  Advised  me  not    ' 

iie  spint  of  my  husband  was  aroused,  he  instantly  obeyed 
what  he  considered  the  imperative  call  of  duty,  and  told  me 
to  prepare  hm.  a  fe^y  necessaries,  that  he  migh    be  readv^o 

"ght.  ^\  e  talked  over  the  strange  news  for  hours ;  our  eom- 
ng  separation,  and  the  probability  that  if  things  were  as  badTs 

weTe  rrh  ^d'" '''  '^'''' ""''''  "-^  '^^'  ^-  ^ 

were  m  such  a  desperate  condition  that  Moodie  anticipated 
hat  any  change  must  be  for  the  better;  it  was  impossib^for 
them  to  be  worse  But  the  poor,  anxious  wife  though  only 
IforC^  ^"^'  "  '-  ^"^  ^  "^^^  --^e  t:  all  he^ 
Before  the  cold,  snowy  morning  broke,  we  were  all  stin-in. 
I^e  eh-ldren,  who  had  learned  that  their  father  was  pre"  int 
to  leave  them,  were  crying  and  clinging  round  his  knees    III 

st~  7:  ''''''  '^'''''  '^  -^  ^  ^'^  --^  passed  oJ: 

c^ZnTl^  r  Ti    '  ^"^  ""''  "^y  ''^'  -^  «h-^  to  ac- 
company   him  through  the  wood  as  far  as  my  sister  Mr. 


I«. 


f  i ' ' 


\\\- 


Wil 


f(»'f 


148 


ROUGEIXO  IT  IN  TEE  BUSH. 


Mm  k  i 


T 's.  The  day  was  like  our  destiny,  cold,  dark,  and  lower- 
ing. I  gave  the  dear  invalid  his  crutches,  and  we  commenced 
our  sorrowful  walk.  Then  old  Jenny's  lamentations  burst 
forth,  as,  flinging  her  arms  round  my  husband's  neck,  she 
kissed  and  blessed  him  after  the  fashion  of  her  country. 

"  Och  hone !  och  hone !"  she  cried,  wringing  her  hands, 
"  masther  dear,  why  will  you  lave  the  wife  and  the  childher  1 
The  poor  crathur  is  breakin'  her  heart  intirely  at  partin'  wid 
you.  Shure  an'  the  war  is  nothin'  to  you,  that  you  must  be 
goin'  into  danger ;  an'  you  wid  a  broken  leg.  Och  hone  !  och 
hone !  come  back  to  your  home — you  will  be  kilt,  and  thin 
what  will  become  of  the  wife  and  the  wee  bairns  ?" 

Her  cries  and  lamentations  followed  us  into  the  wood.  At 
my  sister's,  Moodie  and  I  parted ;  and  with  a  heavy  heart  I 
retraced  my  steps  through  the  wood.  For  once,  I  forgot  all 
my  fears.  I  never  felt  the  cold.  Sad  tears  were  flowing  ovei 
my  cheeks ;  when  I  entered  the  house,  hope  seemed  to  have 
deserted  me,  and  for  upwards  of  an  hour  I  lay  upon  the  bed 
and  wept.  Poor  Jenny  did  her  best  to  comfort  me,  but  all  joy 
had  vanished  with  him  who  was  my  light  of  life.  Left  in  the 
most  absolute  uncertainty  as  to  the  real  state  of  public  affairs, 
1  could  only  conjecture  what  might  be  the  result  of  this  sud- 
den outbreak.  Several  poor  settlers  called  at  the  house  during 
the  day,  on  their  way  down  .,3  Peterborough ;  but  they 
brought  with  them  the  most  exaggerated  accounts.  There  had 
been  a  battle,  they  said,  with  the  rebels,  and  the  loyalists  had 
been  defeated ;  Toronto  was  besieged  by  sixty  thousand  men, 
and  all  the  men  in  the  backwoods  were  ordered  to  march  in- 
stantly to  the  relief  of  the  city. 

In  the  evening,  I  received  a  note  from  Emilia,  who  was  at 
Peterborough,  in  which  she  informed  me  that  my  husband 

had  borrowed  a  horse  of  Mr.  S ,  and  had  joined  a  largo 

pai-ty  of  two  hundred  volunteers,  who  had  left  that  morning 


THE  OUTBREAK. 


149 


,  and  lower- 
commenced 
.tions  burst 
3  nock,  she 
mtry. 

her  hands, 
le  childher  % 

partin'  wid 
ou  must  be 
1  hone !  och 
It,  and  thin 

3  wood.  At 
!avy  heart  I 
I  forgot  all 
lowing  ovei 
ned  to  have 
pon  the  bed 
,  but  all  joy- 
Left  in  the 
iblic  affairs, 
of  this  sud- 
ouse  during 
;  but  they 
There  had 
oyalists  had 
)usand  men, 
o  march  m- 

who  was  at 
ny  husband 
ined  a  large 
lat  morning 


for  Toronto;  that  there  had  been  a  battle  with  the  insurgents; 
that  Colonel  Moodie  had  been  killed,  and  tlie  rebels  had  re- 
treated ;  and  that  she  hoped  my  husband  would  return  in  a 
few  days.  The  honest  backwoodsmen,  perfectly  ignorant  of 
the  abuses  that  had  led  to  the  present  position  of  things,  re- 
garded  the  rebels  as  a  set  of  monsters,  for  whom  no  punish- 
ment was  too  severe,  and  obeyed  the  call  to  arms  with  en- 
thusiasm. The  leader  of  the  insurgents  ^^^^X.  have  been 
astonished  at  the  rapidity  with  which  a  large  force  was  col- 
Iccted,  as  if  by  magic,  to  repel  his  designs.  A  great  number 
of  these  volunteers  were  half-pay  officers,  many  of  whom  had 
fought  in  the  continental  wars  with  the  armies  of  Napoleon, 
and  would  have  been  found  a  host  in  themselves. 

In  a  week,  Moodie  returned.  So  many  volunteers  had 
poured  into  Toronto  that  the  number  of  friends  was  likely 
to  prove  as  disastrous  as  that  of  enemies,  on  account  of  the 
want  of  supplies  to  maintain  them  all.  The  companies  from 
the  back  townships  had  been  remanded,  and  I  received  with 
delight  my  owti  again.  But  this  reunion  did  not  last  long. 
Several  regiments  of  militia  were  formed  to  defend  the 
colony,  and  to  my  husband  was  given  the  rank  of  captain  in 
one  of  those  then  stationed  in  Toronto. 

On  the  20th  of  January,  1838,  he  bade  us  a  long  adieu. 
I  was  left  with  old  Jenny  and  the  children  to  take  care  of  the 
farm.  It  was  a  sad,  dull  time.  I  could  bear  up  against  all 
trials  with  him  to  comfort  and  cheer  me,  but  his  long-con- 
tinued  absence  cast  a  gloom  upon  my*spirit  not  easily  to  be 
shaken  off.  Still  his  very  appointment  to  this  situation  was  a 
signal  act  of  mercy.  From  his  full  pay,  he  was  enabled  to 
liquidate  many  pressing  debts,  and  to  send  home  from  time 
to  time  sums  of  money  to  procure  necessaries  for  me  and 
the  little  ones.  These  remittances  were  greatly  wanted ;  but 
I  demurred  before  laying  them  out  for  comforts  which  we 


■"'"'**  rtifilfifM 


r 


150 


noUGIIINO  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


S 


\\    A 


m 


had  been  so  long  used  to  dispense  with.  It  seemed  almost 
criminal  to  purchase  any  article  of  luxury,  such  as  tea  and 
sugar,  while  a  debt  remained  unpaid. 

The  Y 's  were  very  pressing  for  the  thirty  pounds  that 

we  owed  them  for  the  clearing  ;  but  they  had  such  a  firm  reli- 
ance  upon  the  honour  of  my  husband,  that,  poor  and  pressed 
for  money  as  they  were,  they  never  sued  us.  I  thought  it 
would  be  a  pleasing  surprise  to  Moodie,  if,  with  the  sums  of 
money  which  I  occasionally  received  from  him,  I  could  dimin- 
ish this  debt,  which  had  always  given  him  the  greatest  unea- 
siness ;  and,  my  resolution  once  formed,  I  would  not  allow 
any  temptation  to  shalve  it.  The  money  was  always  trans- 
mitted to  Dummcr.  I  only  reserved  the  sum  of  two  dollars 
a-month,  to  pay  a  little  lad  to  chop  wood  for  us.     After  a 

time,  I  began  to  think  the  Y 's  were  gifted  with  second- 

sight ;  for  I  never  received  a  money-letter,  but  the  very  next 
day  I  was  sure  to  see  some  of  the  family. 

Just  at  this  period  I  received  a  letter  from  a  gentleman, 
requesting  me  to  write  for  a  magazine  (the  Literary  Garland), 
just  started  in  Montreal,  with  promise  to  remunerate  me  for 
my  labours.  Such  an  application  was  like  a  gleam  of  light 
springing  up  in  the  darkness ;  it  seemed  to  promise  the  da^vn. 
ing  of  a  brighter  day.  I  had  never  been  able  to  turn  my 
thoughts  towards  literature  during  my  sojourn  in  the  bush. 
When  the  body  is  fatigued  with  labour,  unwonted  and  beyond 
its  strength,  the  mind  is  in  no  condition  for  mental  occupation. 

The  year  before,  I  'had  been  requested  by  an  American 
author,  of  great  merit,  to  contribute  to  the  North  American 
Bevieio,  published  for  several  years  in  Philadelphia;  and  he 
promised  to  remunerate  me  in  proportion  to  the  success  of 
the  woj-k.  I  had  contrived  to  write  several  articles  after  the 
children  were  asleep,  though  the  expense  even  of  the  station- 
ery and  the  postage  of  the  manuscripts  was  severely  felt  by 


L^ii 


!v|; 


THE  OUTBREAK. 


icd  almost 
as  tea  and 

oiinds  tluit 
a  firm  roli- 
nd  pressed 
thought  it 
3  sums  of 
uld  dimin- 
itest  unea- 
not  allow 
ays  trans- 
wo  dollars 
.  After  a 
th  second- 
very  next 

gentleman, 
Garland)^ 
ate  me  for 
n  of  light 
the  dawn- 
turn  my 
the  bush, 
id  beyond 
ccupation. 
American 
American 
i;  and  he 
iuccess  of 
i  after  the 
le  station- 
ly  felt  by 


151 


one  so  destitute  of  means;  but  the  hope  of  being  of  the  least 
service  to  those  dear  to  me  cheered  me  to  the  task.     I  never 
reaii/cd  a.iy  thing  from  that  source  ;  but  I  believe  it  was  not 
the  fault  of  the  editor.     Several  other  American  editors  had 
written  to  me  to  furnish  them  with  articles  ;  but  I  was  unable 
to  pay  the  postage  of  heavy  packets  to  the  States,  and  they 
could  not  reach  their  destination  without  being  paid  to  the 
frontier.     Thus,  all  chance  of  making  any  thing  in  that  way 
had  been  abandoned.     I  wrote  to  Mr.  L ,  and  frankly  in- 
formed him  how  I  was  situated.     In  the  most  liberal  manner 
he  offered  to  pay  the  postage  on  all  manuscripts  to  his  office 
and  left  me  to  name  my  own  terms  of  remuneration.     This 
opened  up  a  new  era  in  my  existence;  and  for  many  years 
I  have  found  in  this  generous  man,  to  whom  I  am  still  person- 
ally  unknown,  a  steady  friend.     I  actually  shed  tears  of  ioy 
over  the  first  twenty-dollar  bill  I  received  from  Montreal 
It  was  my  own  ;  I  had  earned  it  with  my  own  hand  ;  and  it 
seemed  to  my  delighted  fancy  to  form  the  nucleus  out  of 
which  a  future  independence  for  my  family  might  arise      I 
no  longer  retired  to  bed  when  the  labours  of  the  day  were 
over.     I  sat  up,  and  wrote  by  the  light  of  a  strange  sort  of 
candles,  that  Jenny  called  "  sluts,"  and  which  the  old  woman 
manufactured  out  of  pieces  of  old  rags,  twisted  together  and 
dipped  m  pork  lard,  and  stuck  in  a  bottle.     They  did  not  give 
a  bad  light,  but  it  took  a  great  many  of  them  to  V  st  me  for  a 
few  hours. 

^  The  faithful  old  creature  regarded  my  writings  with  a 
jealous  eye.  «  An',  shure,  it's  killin'  yerself  that  you  are  in- 
f irely.  You  were  thin  enough  before  you  took  to  the  pen  • 
senbblm'  an'  scrabblin'  when  you  should  be  in  bed  an'  asleep 
^\hat  good  will  it  be  to  the  childhren,  dear  heart !  if  you  die 
atore  your  time,  by  wastin'  your  strength  afther  that  fashion  ^'» 
Jenny  never  could  conceive  the  use  of  books.     "Shure 


i>_ 

i  i 

1- '', 

r. :' 

■ ' '  ■  * 

, :  i 

: 

> 

h 


152 


EOUOniNG  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


f ' 


WO  can  live  and  dlo  widout  them.  It's  only  a  waste  of  time 
bothcrin'  your  brains  wld  the  like  of  them  ;  but,  thank  good- 
ness !  the  lard  will  soon  bo  all  done,  an'  thin  we  shall  hear 
you  spakin'  again,  instead  of  sittin'  there  doubled  up  all 
night,  desthroying  your  eyes  wid  porm'  over  the  dirth/ 
writin'." 

As  tho  sugar-making  season  drew  near,  Jenny  conceived 
the  bold  thought  of  making  a  good  lump  of  sugar,  that  tho 
"childher"  might  have  something  to  "ate"  with  their  bread 
during  the  summer.  We  had  no  sugar-kettle,  but  a  neigh- 
bour  promised  to  lend  us  his,  and  to  give  us  twenty-eight 
troughs,  on  condition  that  we  gave  him  half  the  sugar  wo 
made.  These  terms  were  rather  hard,  but  Jenny  was  so 
anxious  to  ftilfil  tho  darling  object  that  we  consented.  Littlo 
Sol  and  the  old  woman  made  some  fifty  troughs  more,  tho 
trees  were  duly  tapped,  a  shanty  in  the  bush  was  erected  of 
small  logs  and  brush  and  covered  in  at  the  top  with  straw ; 
and  the  old  woman  and  Solomon,  the  hired  boy,  commenced 
operations. 

The  very  first  day,  a  terrible  accident  happened  to  us ;  a 
large  log  fell  upon  the  sugar-kettle— the  borrowed  sugar-ket- 
tle—and cracked  it,  spilling  all  the  sap,  and  rendering  tho 
vessel,  which  had  cost  four  dollars,  useless.  We  were  all  in 
dismay.  Just  at  that  time  Old  Wittals  happened  to  pass,  on 
his  way  to  Peterborough.  He  very  good-naturedly  offered  to 
get  the  kettle  repaired  for  us  ;  which,  he  said,  could  be  easily 
done  by  a  rivet  and  an  iron  hoop.  But  where  was  the  money 
to  come  from !  I  thought  awhUe.  Katie  had  a  magnificent 
coral  and  bells,  the  gift  of  her  godfather ;  I  asked  the  dear 

child  if  she  would  give  it  to  buy  another  kettle  for  Mr.  T . 

She  said,  "  I  would  give  ten  tim'^s  as  much  to  help  mamma." 

I  wrote  a  little  note  to  Emilia,  who  was  still  at  her  father's ; 
and  Mr.  W ,  the  storekeeper,  sunt  us  a  fine  sugar-kettle 


TUE  OUTBREAK. 


153 


ste  of  time 
thank  good- 
j  shall  hear 
bled  up  all 
the   dirthy 

r  conceived 
ir,  that  the 
their  bread 
It  a  neigh- 
w^enty-eight 
3  sugar  we 
ny  was  so 
ed.  Little 
I  more,  the 
erected  of 
nth  straw ; 
ommenced 

d  to  us ;  a 
sugar-ket- 
deriiig  the 
were  all  in 
to  pass,  on 
T  offered  to 
i  be  easily 
the  money 
nagnificent 
d  the  dear 

kf  r.  T . 

mamma." 
jr  father's ; 
ugar-kettle 


back  by  Wittals,  and  also  the  other  mended,  in  exchange  for 
the  u-selcss  piece  of  fmery.  Wo  had  now  two  kettles  at  work, 
to  the  joy  of  Jenny,  who  declared  that  it  was  a  lucky  fairy 
who  had  broken  the  old  kettle. 

While  Jenny  was  engaged  in  boiling  and  gathering  the  sap 
in  the  bush,  I  sugared  olf  the  syrup  in  the  house ;  an  operation 
watched  by  the  children  with  intense  interest.   After  standing 
all  day  over  the  hot  stove-fire,  it  was  quite  a  refreshment  to 
breathe  the  pure  air  at  night.     Every  evening  I  ran  up  to  see 
Jenny  in  the  bush,  singing  and  boiling  down  the  sap  in  the 
front  of  her  little  shanty.   ITie  old  woman  was  in  her  element, 
and  afraid  of  nothing  under  the  stars ;  she  slept  beside  her 
kettles  at  night,  and  snai>ped  her  fmgers  at  the  idea  of  the 
least  danger.      She  was  sometimes   rather  despotic  in  her 
treatment  of  her  attendant,  Sol.     One  morning,  in  particular, 
she  bestowed  upon  the  lad  a  severe  cuffing.     I  ran  up  the 
clearing  to  the  rescue,  when  my  ears  were  assailed  by  the 
"  boo-hooing"  of  the  boy. 

"What  has  happened?  Why  do  you  boat  the  child, 
Jenny  ?" 

"  It's  jist,  thin,  I  that  will  bate  him—the  unlucky  omad- 
hawn !  Has  he  not  spilt  and  spiled  two  buckets  of  syrup, 
that  I  have  been  the  live-long  night  bilin'.  Sorra  wid  him  \ 
I'd  like  to  strip  the  skin  off  him,  I  would !  Musha!  but  'tis 
enough  to  vex  a  saint." 

"  Ah,  Jenny  !"  blubbered  the  poor  boy, «  but  you  have  no 
mercy.  You  forget  that  I  have  but  one  eye,  and  that  I  could 
not  see  the  root     I  ch  caught  my  foot  and  threw  me  down." 

"  Faix !  an'  'tis  a  pity  that  you  have  the  one  eye,  when 
you  don't  know  how  to  make  a  betther  use  of  it,"  muttered  the 
angry  dame,  as  she  picked  up  the  pails,  and,  pushing  him  on 
before  her,  beat  a  retreat  into  the  bush. 

I  was  heartily  sick  of  the  sugar-making,  long  before  the 

VOL.  II.  7* 


'st 


154 


Rouamso  it  in  the  bush. 


1  "■ 

1 
■                     1, 

1 

1 

If 

|,  Hi 


m  i  I' 


^t 

lilli:    i 

If 

i 

'■    1 

season  was  over;  liowovur,  we  were  well  paid  for  our 
trouble.  Besides  one  hundred  and  twelve  pounds  of  fine  soil 
sugar,  as  good  as  Muscovado,  we  had  six  gallons  of  molasses, 
and  a  keg  containing  six  gallons  of  excellent  vinegar. 

Fifty  pounds  went  to  Mr.  T ,  for  the  use  of  his  kettle; 

and  the  rest  (with  the  exception  of  a  cake  for  Emilia,  which  I 
had  drained  in  a  wet  flannel  bag  until  it  was  almost  as  white 
as  loaf  sugar)  we  kept  for  our  own  use.  There  was  no  lack, 
this  year,  of  nice  preserves  and  pickled  cucumbers,  dainties 
found  in  every  native  Canadian  estal)lishment. 

Besides  gaining  a  little  money  with  my  pen,  I  practised  a 
method  of  painting  birds  and  butterflies  upon  the  white,  vel- 
vety surface  of  the  large  fungi  that  grow  plentifully  upon  the 
bark  of  the  sugar-maple.  These  had  an  attractive  appear- 
ance ;  and  my  brother,  who  was  a  captain  in  one  of  the  pro- 
visional  regiments,  sold  a  great  many  of  them  among  the 
ollicers,  without  saying  by  whom  they  were  painted.  One 
rich  lady  in  Peterborough,  long  since  dead,  ordered  two  dozen 
to  send  as  curiosities  to  England.  These,  at  one  shilling  each, 
enabled  me  to  buy  shoes  for  the  children,  who,  during  our 
bad  times,  had  been  forced  to  dispense  with  these  necessary 
coverings.  How  often,  during  the  winter  season,  have  I  wept 
over  their  little  chapped  feet,  literally  washing  them  with  my 
tears  !  But  these  days  were  to  end ;  Providence  was  doing 
great  things  for  us;  and  Hope  raised  at  last  her  drooping 
head  to  regard  with  a  brighter  glance  the  far-oflf  future. 

Slowly  the  winter  rolled  away;  but  he  to  whom  every 
thought  turned  was  still  distant  from  his  humble  home.  The 
receipt  of  an  occasional  letter  from  him  was  my  only  solace 
during  his  long  absence,  and  we  were  still  too  poor  to  indulge 
often  in  this  luxury.  My  poor  Katie  was  as  anxious  as  her 
mother  to  hear  from  her  father ;  and  when  I  did  get  the  long- 
looked-for  prize,  she  would  kneel  down  before  me,  her  little 


THE  OUTBREAK, 


for   our 

fine  soft 
uoluHses, 

Is  kettle; 

,  which  I 

as  white 

no  lack, 

dainties 

ictiscd  a 
hitc,  vel- 
ijpon  the 
appear- 
tho  pro- 
long the 

d.  One 
ro  dozen 
ing  each, 
ring  our 
ecessary 
e  I  wept 
(vith  my 
as  doing 
Irooping 
e. 

n  every 

e.  The 
y  solace 

indulge 
1  as  her 
he  long- 
er little 


155 


elbf  W8  resting  on  my  knees,  her  head  thrown  back,  and  the 
tears  trickling  down  her  innocent  cheeks,  eagerly  drinking  in 
every  word. 

ITie  spring  brought  us  plenty  of  work ;  we  had  potatoes 
and  corn  to  plant,  and  the  garden  to  cultivate.  By  lending 
my  oxen  for  two  days'  work,  I  got  Wittals,  who  had  no  oxen, 
to  drag  me  m  a  few  acres  of  oats,  and  to  prepare  the  land  for 
potatoes  and  corn.  The  former  I  dropped  into  the  earth, 
while  Jenny  covered  them  up  with  the  hoe. 

Our  garden  was  well  dug  and  plenMfully  manured,  the  old 
woman  bringing  the  manure,  which  had  lain  for  several  years 
at  the  barn  door,  down  to  the  plot,  in  a  large  Indian  basket 
placed  upon  a  hand-sleigh.     We  had  soon  every  sort  of  veg. 
etable  sown,  with  plenty  of  melons  and  cucumbers,  and  all 
our  beds  promised  a  good  return.     There  were  large  flights 
of  ducks  upon  the  lake  every  night  and  morning;  but  ti.uugh 
we  had  guns,  we  did  not  know  how  to  use  them.     However 
I  thought  of  a  plan,  which  I  flattered  myself  might  prove 
successful ;  I  got  Sol  to  plant  two  stakes  in  the  shallow  water 
near  the  rice  beds,  and  to  these  I  attached  a  slender  rope' 
made  by  braiding  long  strips  of  the  inner  bark  of  the  bass-' 
wood  together ;  to  these  again  I  fastened,  at  regular  intervals 
about  a  quarter  of  a  yard  of  whip-cord,  headed  by  a  strong 
perch-hook.     These  hooks  I  baited  with  fish  oflal,  leaving  them 
to  float  just  under  the  water.     Early  next  morning,  I  saw  a 
fine  black  duck  fluttering  upon  the  line.     The  boy  ran  down 
with  the  paddles,  but  before  he  could  reach  the  spot,  the  cap 
tive  got  away  by  carrying  the  hook  and  line  with  him.     At 
the  next  stake  he  found  upon  the  hooks  a  large  eel  and  a  cat- 
fish. 

I  had  never  before  seen  one  of  those  whiskered,  toad-like 
natives  of  the  Canadian  waters  (so  commu,  to  the  Bay  of 
Qumte,  where  they  grow  to  a  great  size),  that  I  was  really 


Ml 


m 


If 


1 1,; 


i^ 


ROUQUma  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


terrified  at  the  sight  of  the  hideous  beast,  and  told  Sol  to 
throw  it  away.  In  this  I  was  very  foolish,  for  they  ar© 
esteemed  good  eating  in  many  parts  of  Canada ;  but  to  me, 
the  sight  of  the  reptile-like  thing  is  enough— it  is  uglier,  and 
far  more  disgusting-looking  than  a  toad. 

When  the  trees  came  into  leaf,  and  the  meadows  were 
green,  and  flushed  with  flowers,  the  poor  children  used  to  talk 
constantly  to  me  of  their  father's  return ;  their  innocent  prat- 
tle made  me  very  sad.  Ever^  evening  we  walked  into  the 
wood,  along  the  path  that  he  must  come  whenever  he  did 
return  home,  to  meet  him ;  and  though  it  was  a  vain  hope, 
and  the  walk  was  taken  just  to  amuse  the  little  ones,  I  used 
to  be  silly  enough  to  feel  deeply  disappointed  when  we  re- 
turned alone.  Donald,  who  was  a  mere  baby  when  his  father 
left  us,  could  just  begin  to  put  words  together,  "Who  is 
papa  ?"  «  When  will  he  come  1"  "  Will  he  come  by  the 
road  1"  "  Will  he  come  in  a  canoe  T  The  little  creature's 
curiosity  to  see  this  unknown  father  was  really  amusing; 
and  oh !  how  I  longed  to  present  the  little  fellow,  with  his 
rosy  cheeks  and  curling  hair,  to  his  father;  he  was  so 
fair,  so  altogether  charming  in  my  eyes.  Emilia  had  called 
him  Cedric  the  Saxon;  and  he  well  suited  the  name, 
with  his  frank,  honest  disposition,  and  large,  loving  blue 
eyes. 

June  had  commenced ;  the  weather  was  very  warm,  and 

Mr.  T had  sent  for  the  loan  of  old  Jenny  to  help  him  for 

a  day  with  his  potatoes.  I  had  just  prepared  dmner  when 
the  old  woman  came  slirieking  like  a  mad  thing  down  the 
clearing,  and  waving  her  hands  towards  me.  I  could  not 
imagine  what  had  happened. 

"  Ninny's  mad  !"  whispered  Dunbar ;  "  she's  the  old  girl 
fox  making  a  noiue." 

"  Joy !  joy !"  bawled  out  the  old  woman,  now  running 


I   t^l 


(Id  Sol  to 

they  are 

)ut  to  me, 

iglier,  and 

lows  were 
ed  to  talk 
cent  prat- 
l  into  the 
3r  he  did 
'ain  hope, 
les,  I  used 
in  we  re- 
his  father 
"Who  13 
le  by  the 
creature's 
amusing ; 
,  with  his 
>  was  so 
lad  called 
le  name, 
ring  blue 

arm,  and 
p  him  for 
aer  when 
iown  the 
sould  not 

a  old  girl 

running 


TIfB  OUTBMEAK. 


157 


mas- 


breathlessly  towards  us.     "The  masther's  come-the 
ther  s  come !" 

"  Where  ?— where  ?" 

«  Jist  above  in  the  wood.     Goodness  gracious !    I  have 
hveJk-       ^'"'  ^""^-^^  fast-that  my  heart-is  like  to- 

Without  stopping  to  comfort  poor  Jenny,  off  started  the 
children  and  myself,  at  the  very  top  of  our  speed  ;  but  I  soon 
found  that    could  not  run-I  was  too  much  agitated.    I  got 
to  the  head  of  the  bush,  and  sat  down  upon  a  fallen  tree, 
llie  children  sprang  forward  like  wild  kids,  all  but  Donald 
who  remained  with  his  old  nurse.     I  covered  my  face  with 
my  hands;  my  heart,  too,  was  beating  audibly;  and  now 
tliat  he  wa^  come,  and  was  so  near  me,  I  scarcely  could  com- 
mand  strength  to  meet  him.     The  sound  of  happy  youne 
voices  roused  me  up  ;  the  children  were  leading  him  along  i^ 
triumph;  and  he  was  1     ding  down  to  them,  all  smiles,  but 
hot  and  tired  with  his  long  journey.     It  was  almost  worth 
our  separation,  that  blissful  meeting.     In  a  few  minutes  he 
was  at  home,  and  the  children  upon  his  knees.     Katie  stood 
sdently  holding  his  hand,  but  Addie  and  Dunbar  had  a 
thousand  things  to  tell  him.     Donald  was  frightened  at  his 
military  dress,  but  he  peeped  at  him  from  behind  my  gown 
until  I  caught  and  placed  him  in  his  father's  arms.  ' 

His  leave  of  absence  only  extended  to  a  fortnight.  It  had 
taken  him  three  days  to  come  all  the  way  from  Lake  ^Srie 
where  his  regiment  was  stationed,  at  Point  Abino ;  and  the 
same  time  would  be  consumed  in  his  return.  He  could  only 
remain  with  us  eight  days.  How  soon  they  fled  away  »  How 
bitter  was  the  thought  of  parting  with  him  again !    He  had 

brought  money  to  pay  the  J^ -'s.    How  surprised  he  waa 

to  find  their  large  debt  more  than  half  liquidated.    How 
gently  did  he  chide  me  for  depriving  myself  and  the  childreB 


i'-"^T«R»IWW^^"^i.ii«K;H^3T.  Tn 


rtj 


! 

M 

Ml 


\\\U 

1  j 

t^ 

15S> 


ROUGHING  IT  IN  TILE  BUSH. 


of  the  little  comforts  he  had  designed  for  us,  in  order  to  make 
this  sacrifice.  But  never  was  self-denial  more  fully  rewarded ; 
I  felt  happy  in  having  contributed  in  the  least  to  pay  a  just 
debt  to  kind  and  worthy  people.  You  must  become  poor 
yourself  before  you  can  fully  appreciate  the  good  qualities  of 
the  poor— before  you  can  sympathize  with  them,  and  fully 
recognize  them  as  your  brethren  in  the  flesh.  Their  benev- 
olence to  each  other,  exercised  amidst  want  and  privation,  as 
far  surpasses  the  nmnificence  of  the  rich  towards  them,  as  the 
exalted  philanthropy  of  Christ  and  his  disciples  does  the 
Christianity  of  the  present  day.  The  rich  man  gives  from 
his  abundance ;  the  poor  man  shares  with  a  distressed  com- 
rade his  all. 

One  short,  happy  week'  too  soon  fled  away,  and  we  were 
once  more  alone.  In  the  fall,  my  husband  expected  the  reg- 
iment in  which  he  held  his  commission  would  be  reduced, 
which  w^ould  again  plunge  us  into  the  same  distressing  pov- 
erty. Often  of  a  night  I  revolved  these  things  in  my  mind, 
and  perplexed  myself  with  conjectures  as  to  what  in  future 
was  to  become  of  us.  Although  he  had  saved  all  he  could 
from  his  pay,  it  was  impossible  to  pay  several  hundreds  of 
pounds  of  debt ;  and  the  steamboat  stock  still  continued  a 
dead  letter.  To  remain  much  longer  m  the  woods  was  im- 
possible, for  the  returns  from  the  farm  scarcely  fed  us ;  and 
but  for  the  clothing  sent  us  by  friends  from  home,  who  were 
not  aware  of  our  real  difliculties,  we  should  have  been  badly 
off  indeed. 

I  pondered  over  every  plan  that  thought  could  devise ;  at 
last,  I  prayed  to  the  Almighty  to  direct  me  as  to  what  would 
be  the  best  course  for  us  to  pursue.  A  sweet  assurance  stole 
over  me,  and  soothed  my  spirit,  that  God  would  provide  for 
us,  as  Hf  had  hitherto  done — that  a  great  deal  of  our  distress 
arose  from  want  of  faith.    I  was  just  sinking  into  a  calm  sleep 


TEE  OUTBREAK. 


159 


?r  to  make 
rewarded ; 
pay  a  just 
!ome  poor 
ualities  of 

and  fully 
eir  benev- 
ivation,  as 
Bm,  as  the 

does  the 
ives  from 
ssed  com- 

i  we  were 
d  the  reg- 
i  reduced, 
ssing  pov- 
my  mind, 
in  future 
i  he  could 
ndreds  of 
ntinued  a 
3  was  im- 
i  us ;  and 
who  were 
sen  badly 

levise ;  at 
hat  would 
ance  stole 
ovide  for 
ir  distress 
salm  sleep 


when  the  thought  seemed  whispered  into  my  soul    «  Write  to 

the  Governor;  tell  him  candidly  all  you  have  suffered  during 

your  sojo,       in  this  country ;  and  trust  to  God  for  the  rest."" 

At  firs,  i  paid  little  heed  to  this  suggestion ;  but  it  became 

so  importunate  that  at  last  I  determined  to  act  upon  it  as  if 

It  were  a  message  sent  from  heaven.     I  rose  from  my  bed, 

struck  a  light,  sat  down,  and  wrote  a  letter  to  the  Lieutenant^ 

Governor,  Sir  George  Arthur,  a  simple  statement  of  facts, 

leavuig  It  to  his  benevolence  to  pardon  the  liberty  I  had  taken 

in  addressing  him. 

^     I  asked  of  him  to  continue  my  husband  in  the  militia  service, 
m  the  same  regiment  in  which  he  now  held  the  rank  of  cap! 
tain,  which,  by  enabling  him  to  pay  our  debts,  would  rescue 
us  from  our  present  misery.     Of  the  political  character  of  Sir 
George  Arthur  I  knew  nothing.     I  addressed  him  as  a  man 
and  a  Christian ;  and  I  acknowledge,  with  the  deepest  and 
most  heartfelt  gratitude,  the  generous  kindness  of  his  conduct 
towards  us.     Before  the  day  dawned,  my  letter  was  ready  for 
the  post.     The  first  secret  I  ever  had  from  my  husband  M'as 
the  writing  of  that  letter;  and,  proud  and  sensitive  as  he  was, 
and  averse  to  asking  the  least  favour  of  the  great,  I  was  dread! 
fully  afraid  that  the  act  I  had  just  done  would  be  displeasing' 
to  him ;  still,  I  felt  resolutely  determined  to  send  it.     After 
giving  the  children  their  breakfast,  I  walked  down  and  read 
it  to  my  brother-in-law,  who  was  not  only  much  pleased  with 
its  contents,  but  took  it  down  himself  to  the  post>otfice. 

Shortly  after,  I  received  a  letter  from  my  husband,  "inform- 
ing me  that  the  regiment  had  been  reduced,  and  that  he  should 
be  home  in  time  to  get  in  the  harvest.  Most  anxiouslv  I 
awaited  a  reply  to  my  application  to  tht  Governor;  but'no 
reply  came. 

The  first  week  in  August  our  dear  Moodie  came  home, 
and  brought  with  him,  to  our  no  small  joy,  J,  E ,  who 


W 


160 


RouGHma  IT  m  the  bush. 


had  just  returned  from  Ireland.     E had  been  cii9'',ppoi^it'ei 

about  the  money,  which  was  subject  to  litigation ;  and,  tired 
of  waiting  at  home  until  the  tedious  process  of  the  law  should 
terminate,  he  had  come  back  to  the  woods,  and,  before  night, 
was  reinstated  in  his  old  quarters. 

His  presence  made  Jenny  all  alive ;  she  dared  him  at  once 

to  a  trial  of  skill  with  her  in  the  wheat  field,  which  E 

prudently  declined.  He  did  not  expect  to  stay  longer  in. 
Canada  than  the  fall,  but,  whilst  he  did  stay,  he  was  to  con- 
sider our  house  his  home. 

That  harvest  was  the  happiest  we  ever  spent  in  the  bush. 
We  had  enough  of  the  common  necessaries  of  life.  A  spirit 
of  peace  and  harmony  pervaded  our  little  dwellmg,  for  the 
mi  .t  affectionate  attachment  existed  among  its  members. 
We  were  not  troubled  with  servants,  for  the  good  old  Jenny 
we  regarded  as  an  humble  friend,  and  were  freed,  by  that  cir- 
cumstance, from  many  of  the  cares  and  vexations  of  a  bush 
life.  Our  evening  excursions  on  the  lake  were  doubly  en- 
joyed after  the  labours  of  the  day,  and  night  brought  us  calm; 
and  healthful  repose. 


i ' '.- 


^lin 

^w 

m  1 1 

^^^B  '    ''  -'-KB 

and,  tired 
law  should 
sfore  night, 


THE  WHIRLWIND, 


161 


if 


lim  at  once 

ich  E . 

longer  in 
as  to  con- 


1  the  bush. 

,     A  spirit 

ng,  for  the 

members. 

old  Jenny 

)y  that  cir- 

of  a  bush 

ioubly  en- 

ht  us  calm; 


CHAPTEK    X. 

THE   WHIRLWIND, 

mUE  19th  of  August  came,  and  our  little  harvest  was  all 
J-  saf-ly  housed.  Business  called  Moodie  away  for  a  few 
days  to  Cobourg.     Jenny  had  gone  to  Dummer,  to  visit  her 

friends,  and  J.  E had  taken  a  grist  of  the  new  wheat, 

which  he  and  Moodie  had  threshed  the  day  before,  to  the  mill. 
I  was  consequently  left  alone  with  the  chUdren,  and  had  a 
double  portion  of  work  to  do.  During  their  absence  it  was 
my  lot  to  witness  the  most  awful  storm  I  ever  beheld,  and  a 
vivid  recollection  of  its  terrors  was  permanently  fixed  upon 
my  memory. 

The  weather  had  been  intensely  hot  during  the  three  pre- 
ceding  days,  although  the  sun  was  entirely  obscured  by  a 
blueish  haze,  which  seemed  to  render  the  unusual  heat  of  the 
atmosphere  more  oppressive.  Not  a  breath  of  air  stirred  the 
vast  forest,  and  the  waters  of  the  lake  assumed  a  leaden  hue. 
After  passing  a  sleepless  night,  I  arose,  a  little  after  daybreak, 

to  superintend  my  domestic  affairs.     E took  his  breakl 

fast,  and  wont  off  to  the  mill,  hoping  that  the  rain  would  keep 
off  until  after  his  return. 

"  It  is  no  joke,"  he  said, «  being  upon  these  lakes  m  a  small 
canoe,  heavily  laden,  in  a  storm." 

Before  the  sun  rose,  the  heavens  were  covered  with  hard- 
looking  clouds,  of  a  deep  blue  and  black  cast,  fading  away  to 
white  at  their  edges,  and  in  form  resembling  the  long,  rollbig 


162 


EOUGHINa  IT  IN  THE  BUSK 


I'   .  i 


waves  of  a  heavy  sea — but  with  this  difference,  that  the  clouds 
were  perfectly  motionless,  piled  in  loncf  curved  lines,  one  above 
the  other,  and  so  remained  until  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 
The  appearance  of  these  clouds,  as  the  sun  rose  above  the  hori- 
zon, was  the  most  splendid  that  can  be  iinagincd,  tinged  up  to 
the  zenith  with  every  shade  of  saffron,  gold,  rose-colour,  scarlet, 
and  crimson,  fading  away  into  the  deepest  violet.  Never  did 
the  storm-fiend  shake  m  the  face  of  day  a  more  gorgeous  ban- 
ner ;  and,  pressed  as  I  was  for  time,  I  stood  gazing  like  one 
entranced  upon  the  magnificent  pageant. 

As  the  day  advanced,  the  same  blue  haze  obscured  the 
sun,  which  frowned  redly  through  his  misty  veil.  At  ten 
o'clock  the  heat  was  suffocating,  and  I  extinguished  the  fire  in 
the  cooking-stove,  determined  to  make  our  meals  upon  bread 
and  milk,  rather  than  add  to  the  oppressive  heat.  Tlie  ther- 
mometer in  the  shade  ranged  from  ninety-six  to  ninety-ei^ht 
degrees,  and  I  gave  over  my  work  and  retired  with  the  little 
ones  to  the  coolest  part  of  the  house.  The  young  creatures 
stretched  themselves  upon  the  floor,  unable  to  jump  about  or 
play ;  the  dog  lay  panting  in  the  shade  ;  the  fowls  half  buried 
themselves  in  the  dust,  with  open  beaks  and  outstretched  wuigs. 
All  nature  seemed  to  droop  beneath  the  scorching  heat. 

Unfortunately  for  me,  a  gentleman  arrived  about  one 
o'clock  from  Kingston,  to  transact  some  business  with  my 
husband.  He  had  not  tasted  food  since  six  o'clock,  and  I  was 
obliged  to  kindle  the  fire  to  prepare  his  dinner.  It  was  one 
of  the  hardest  tasks  I  ever  performed  ;  I  almost  fainted  with 
the  heat,  and  most  inhospitably  rejoiced  when  his  dinner  was 
over,  and  J  saw  him  depart.     Shortly  afterwards,  my  friend 

Mrs.  C and  her  brother  called  in,  on  their  way  from 

Peterborough. 

"  How  do  you  bear  the  heat  ?"  asked  Mrs.  C 


"This 


is  one  of  the  hottest  days  I  ever  remember  to  have  experienced 


THE  WHIRLWIND, 


t  the  clouds 
s,  one  above 
li  afternoon. 
>ve  the  hori- 
Inged  up  to 
our,  scarlet, 
Never  did 
rgeous  ban- 
ng  like  one 

)scured  the 
il.  At  ten 
I  the  fire  in 
upon  bread 

Tlie  ther- 
linety-eight 
h  the  little 
5  creatures 
p  about  or 
lialf  buried 
!hed  wings, 
leat. 

about  one 
!  with  my 

and  I  was 
It  was  one 
inted  with 
liriner  was 
my  friend 
way  from 

-.     "This 
^perienced 


1G3 


in  this  part  of  the  province.     I  am  afraid  that  it  .nil  end  in 
a  hm-r.cane,  or  what  the  Lower  Canadians  term  ^VoZ^^^ 

^^"t:^^r'^ri     lu^edthemlSitay 

t\„  \  »         . ' ,  ^ '      ">"  sooner  wc  get  Iioiiie 

tl.o  better.     I  ,h,„k  wc  can  reach  it  before  the  ston/break." 

1  took  Donald  in  ray  arms,  and  my  eldest  boy  by  the 

band  and  walked  with  then,  to  the  brow  of  the  hill,  think    g 

!!,:  :    ^!  t     , """"  ""'  '""''^  ''""S  ^°  '°-.  "nd  'he  heat 
«a.  so  great,  that  I  was  soon  glad  to  retrace  my  step. 

The  moment  I  tnrned  round  to  face  the  lake,  I  wks  sur- 
pnsed  at  the  change  that  had  taken  place  in  the  appearance 
of  the  heavens.  The  clouds,  that  had  before  lain  so  nation- 
less, were  now  m  rapid  motion,  hurrying  and  elmsing  each 
other  round  the  horizon.    It  was  a  strangely  awful  silt 

bl"     t        \'''"''  °'  "-^  ■"'«>">■  "-'  '"'''  had  llr  :  y 
burst  on  the  o  her  s,de  of  the  lake,  branches  of  trees,  lcave.( 

and  clouds  of  dust  were  whirled  across  the   lake,  whose 

water,  rose  m  long  sharp  furrows,  fringed  with  foam,  as  if 

moved  m  their  depths  by  some  unseen  but  powerful  ag^xt 

Pantmg  w,th  terror,  I  just  reached  the  door  of  the  house  as 

the  hurr.eane  swept  up  the  hill,  crushing  and  overturnin.. 

every  thmg  m  its  course.     Spell-bound,  I  stood  at  the  open 

door,  w,th  clasped  hands,  unable  to  speak,  rendered  dumb 

and  mofonless  by  the  terrible  grandeur  of  the  scene;  while 

little  Donald,  who  could  not  utter  many  intelligible  words 

crept  to  my  feet,  appealing  to  mo  for  protection,  while  his' 

rosy  checks  paled  even  to  marble  whiteness.    The  hurrvinrr 

clouds  gave  to  the  heavens  the  appearance  of  a  pointed  dome 

round  wh,ch  the  lightning  played  in  broad  ribbon=  of  fire' 

The  roarmg  of  the  thunder,  the  rushing  of  the  blast,  the  im! 

petuous  down-pouring  of  the  rain,  and  the  crash  of  falling 

trees,  were  perfectly  deafening ;  and  in  the  midst  of  this  nj^ 


»1 


i   ' 


M(i 


164 


liOUamNG  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


fir 


ii 


roar  of  the  elements,  old  Jenny  burst  in,  drenched  with  wet, 
and  half  dead  with  fear. 

"  Tlie  Lord  preserve  us !"  she  cried,  "  tliis  surely  is  tho 
day  of  judgment.  Fifty  trees  fell  across  my  very  path,  be- 
tween  this   an'   the   creek.     Mrs.   C just  reached  her 

brother's  clearmg  a  few  minutes  before  a  great  oak  fell  on 
her  very  path.  What  thunther ! — what  lightning !  Misthress, 
dear ! — it's  turn'd  so  dark,  I  can  only  jist  see  yer  face." 

Glad  enough  was  I  of  her  presence ;  for  to  be  alone  in  the 
heart  of  the  great  forest,  in  a  log  hut,  on  such  a  night,  was  not 
a  pleasing  prospect.  People  gain  courage  by  companionship, 
and  in  order  to  reassure  each  other,  struggle  to  conceal  theu- 
fears. 

"  And  where  is  Mr.  E- ?" 

"  I  hope  not  on  the  lake.  lie  went  early  tliis  morning  to 
get  the  wheat  ground  at  the  mill." 

"Och,  the  crathur!  He's  surely  drowned.  What  boat 
could  stan'  such  a  scrunmage  as  this  1" 

I  had  my  fears  for  poor  John ;  but  as  the  chance  that  he 
had  to  wait  at  the  mill  till  others  were  served  was  more  than 
probable,  I  tried  to  still  my  apprehensions  for  his  safety.  Tlie 
storm  soon  passed  over,  after  having  levelled  several  acres  of 
wood  near  the  house,  and  smitten  down  in  its  progress  two 
gigantic  pines  in  the  clearing,  which  must  have  withstood  the 
force  of  a  thousand  winters.  Talking  over  the  effects  of  this 
whirlwind  with  my  brother,  he  kindly  sent  me  the  following 
very  graphic  description  of  a  whirlwind  which  passed  through 
the  town  of  Guelph  in  the  summer  of  1829. 

*  "  In  my  hunting  excursions  and  rambles  through  the 
Upper  Canadian  forests,  I  had  frequently  met  with  extensive 
wind-falls ;  and  observed  with  some  surprise  that  the  fallen 

*  Writtea  by  Mr.  Strickland^  of  Douro. 


TEE  WHIRL  wnm. 


165 


trees  lay  strewn  in  a  succession  of  circles,  and  evidcntlj^  ap- 
peared  to  have  been  twisted  off  the  stumps.  I  also  remarked 
that  these  wind-falls  were  generally  narrow,  and  had  the  ap- 
pearance  of  a  road  slashed  through  the  forest.  From  obser- 
vations  made  at  the  time,  and  smce  confirmed,  I  have  no 
doubt  that  Colonel  Reid's  theory  of  storms  is  a  correct  one, 
viz.,  that  all  wind-storms  move  in  a  circular  direction,  and 
the  nearer  the  centre  the  more  violent  the  force  of  the  wind. 
Having  seen  the  effects  of  several  similar  hurricanes  since  my 
residence  in  Canada  West,  I  shall  proceed  to  describe  one 
which  happened  in  the  township  of  Guelph  during  the  early 
part  of  the  summer  of  1829. 

"  The  weather,  for  the  season  of  the  year  (May),  had  been 
hot  and  sultry,  with  scarcely  a  breath  of  wind  stirring.     I 
had  heard  distant  thunder  from  an  early  hour  in  the  morning, 
which,  from  the  eastward,  is  rather  an  unusual  occurrence. 
About  10  A.  M.,  the  sky  had  a  most  singular,  and  I  must  add 
a  most  awful  appearance,  presenting  to  the  view  a  vast  arch 
of  rolling  blackness,  which  seemed  to  gather  strength  and  den- 
sity  as  it  approached  the  zenith.    All  at  once  the  clouds  began 
to  work  round  in  circles,  as  if  chasing  one  another  through  the 
air.     Suddenly  the  dark  arch  of  clouds  appeared  to  break  up 
into  detached  masses,  whirling  and  mixing  through  each  other 
in  dreadful  commotion.    The  forked  lightning  was  incessant, 
accompanied  by  heavy  thunder.     In  a  short  time,  the  clouds 
seemed  to  converge  to  a  point,  which  approached  very  near 
the  earth,  still  whirling  with  great  rapidity  directly  under  this 
point ;  and  apparently  from  the  midst  of  the  woods  arose  a 
black  column,  in  the  shape  of  a  cone,  which  instantly  joined 
itself  to  the  depending  cloud.    The  sight  was  now  grand  and 
awfril  in  the  extreme.     Picture  to  your  imagination  a  vast 
column  of  smoke,  of  inky  blackness,  reaching  from  earth  to 
heaven,  gyrating  with  fearful  velocity— bright  lightnings  issu. 


i 


166 


ROVOIimo  IT  IN  THE  isusn. 


ing  from  the  vortex ;  the  roar  of  the  thunder— the  rushing 
of  the  blast— the  crash  of  timber— the  lini])s  of  trees,  leaves, 
and  rubbish,  mingled  with  clouds  of  dust,  whirling  through 
the  air ;— you  then  have  a  faint  idea  of  the  scene. 

"  I  had  ample  time  for  observation,  as  the  hurricane  com- 
menced  its  devastating  course  about  two  miles  from  the  town, 
through  the  centre  of  which  it  took  its  way,  passing  withiil 
fifty  yards  of  where  a  number  of  persons,  myself  among  the 
rest,  were  standing',  watching  its  fearful  progress. 

"  As  the  tornado  approached,  the  trees  seemed  to  fall  like 
a  pack  of  cards  before  its  irresistible  current.     After  passing 
through  the  clearing  made  around  the  village,  the  force  of  the 
wind  gradually  abated,  and  in  a  few  minutes  died  away  entirely. 
"  As  soon  as  the  storm  was  over,  I  went  to  see  the  damage 
it  had  done.    From  the  point  where  I  first  observed  the  black 
column  to  rise  from  the  woods  and  join  the  clouds,  the  trees 
were  twisted  in  every  direction.     A  belt  of  timber  had  been 
levelled  to  the  ground,  about  two  miles  in  length  and  about 
one  hundred  yards  in  breadth.    At  the  entrance  of  the  town  it 
crossed  the  river  Speed,  and  uprooted  about  six  acres  of  wood, 
which  had  been  thinned  out,  and  left  by  Mr.  Gait  (late  superin- 
tendent of  the  Canada  Company),  as  an  ornament  to  his  house. 
"  The  Eremosa  road  was  completely  blocked  up  for  nearly 
half-a-mile,  in  the  wildest  confusion  possible.     In  its  progress 
through  the  town  the  storm  unroofed  several  houses,  levelled 
many  fences  to  the  ground,  and  entirely  demolished  a  frame 
barn.     Windows  were  dashed  in ;  and,  in  one  instance,  the 
floor  of  a  log  house  was  carried  through  the  roof     Some  hair- 
breadth  escapes  occurred ;  but,  luckily,  no  lives  were  lost. 

"About  twelve  years  since  a  similar  storm  occurred  in 
the  north  part  of  the  toA^^nship  of  Douro,  but  was  of  much  less 
magnitude.  I  heard  an  intelligent  settler,  who  resided  some 
years  in  the  township  of  Madoc,  state  that,  during  his  resi- 


THE  WHIRL  wiyo. 


167 


dencG  in  that  township,  a  similar  hurricane  to  the  one  I  have 
described,  though  of  a  much  more  awful  character,  passed 
through  a  part  of  Marmora  and  Madoc,  and  had  been  traced, 
in  a  north-easterly  direction,  upwards  of  forty  miles  into  the 
unsurveyed  lands;  the  uniform  width  of  which  appeared  to  bo 
three  quarters  of  a  mile. 

"  It  is  very  evident,  from  the  traces  which  they  have  left 
behind  them,  that  storms  of  this  description  have  not  been  un- 
frequent  in  the  wooded  districts  of  Canada  ;  and  it  becomes  a 
matter  of  interesting  consideration  whether  the  clearing  of  our 
immense  forests  will  not,  in  a  great  measure,  remove  the  cause 
of  these  phenomena." 

A  few  minutes  after  our  household  had  retired  to  rest,  my 

first  sleep  was  broken  by  the  voice  of  J.  E ,  speaking  to  old 

Jenny  m  the  kitchen.  He  had  been  overtaken  by  the  storm, 
but  had  run  his  canoe  ashore  upon  an  island  before  its  full  fury 
burst,  and  turned  it  over  the  flour;  while  he  had  to  brave  the 
terrors  of  a  pitiless  tempest— buffeted  by  the  wind  and 
drenched  with  torrents  of  rain.  I  got  up  and  made  him  a 
cup  of  tea,  while  Jenny  prepared  a  rasher  of  bacon  and  eggs 
for  his  supper. 

Shortly  after  this,  J.  E bade  a  final  adieu  to  Canada, 

with  his  cousin  C.  W .     He  volunteered  into  the  Scotch 

Greys,  and  we  never  saw  him  more  ;  but  I  have  been  told 
that  he  was  so  highly  respected  by  the  officers  of  the  regiment 
that  they  subscribed  for  his  commission ;  that  he  rose  to  the 
rank  of  lieutenant ;  accompanied  the  regiment  to  India,  and 
was  at  the  taking  of  Cubul ;  but  from  himself  we  never  heard 


agam. 


The  16th  of  October,  my  third  son  was  born;  and  a  few 
days  after,  my  husband  was  appointed  paymaster  to  the 
militia  regiments  in  the  V.  District,  with  the  rank  and  full 
pay  of  captain. 


fiilit 

ml 


;i 


■!'•■    I 


M  i!  ..Li— 


168 


Rouoffma  IT  m  the  husit. 


This  was  Sir  Georgo  Arthur's  doing.  lie  returned  no  an- 
iw»  I'  \f»  t>  V  application,  hut  he  did  not  forget  us.  As  the 
ti^e  ^hf  Moodio  ijiight  retain  this  situation  was  very  douht- 
HA,  ito  t*!'>ught  it  adviwftblo  not  to  remove  nic  and  the  family 
iintil  he  could  uecure  some  permanent  situation ;  by  so  doing, 
he  would  have  a  better  opportimity  of  savhig  the  greater  purt 
of  his  income  to  pay  off  his  old  debts. 

Tlil^  winter  of  1839  wiis  one  of  severe  trial  to  mo. 
Ifitii^rto  1  had  enjoyed  the  b  "^sing  of  health;  but  both  the 
childrt'iT  and  myself  were  now  doomed  to  suffer  from  danger- 
ous attacks  of  illness.  All  the  little  things  hud  malignant 
scarlet  fever,  and  for  several  days  I  thought  it  would  please 
the  Almighty  to  take  from  me  my  two  girls.  Tliis  fever  is 
so  fatal  to  children  in  Canada  that  none  of  my  neighbours 
dared  approach  the  house.  For  three  weeks  Jenny  and  I 
were  never  undressed ;  our  whole  time  was  taken  up  in  nurs- 
ing  the  five  little  helpless  creatures  through  the  successive 
stages  of  their  alarmmg  disease.  I  sent  for  Dr.  Taylor ;  but 
he  did  not  come,  and  I  was  obliged  to  trust  to  the  mercy  of 
God,  and  my  own  judgment  and  good  nursing.  Though  I 
escaped  the  fever,  mental  anxiety  and  fatigue  brought  on 
other  illness,  which  for  nearly  ten  weeks  rendered  me  perfect- 
ly helpless.     When  I  was  again  able  to  creep  from  my  sick 

bed,  the  baby  was  seized  with  an  illness,  wliich  Dr.  B 

pronounced  mortal.  Against  all  hope,  he  recovered,  but 
these  severe  mental  trials  rendered  me  weak  and  nervous, 
and  more  anxious  than  ever  to  be  re-miited  to  my  husband. 
To  add  to  these  troubles,  my  sister  and  her  husband  sold 

+]ieir  farm,  and  removed  from  our  neighbourhood.    Mr. 

had  returned  to  England,  and  had  obtamed  a  situation  in  the 
Customs;  and  his  wife,  my  friend  Emilia,  wuir^  keeping  a 
school  in  the  village;  so  that  i  felt  more  solitary  thiiU  ;ver, 
thus  deprived  of  so  many  kind,  sympathizing  fnenus. 


led  no  nn- 
I.  As  tho 
cry  doubt- 
tho  funiily 
r  80  doing, 
'eater  part 

il  to  mo. 
■j  both  tho 
m  dangor- 
malignant 
uld  please 
is  fever  ia 
leighbours 
nny  and  I 
p  in  nur». 
successive 
lylor;  but 
mercy  of 
Though  I 
rought  on 
le  perfect- 
1  my  sick 

)r.  B 

'ered,  but 
I  nervous, 
'  husband, 
band  sold 

Mr. 

ion  in  the 
k:^epiiig  a 
■LiU  over. 


TIJE  WALK  TO  DUMMEX. 


109 


CHAPTER    XI. 

THE    WALK     ro    DUMMKR. 

T)  EADER !  have  you  ever  heard  of  a  place  situated  in  the 
J-t^  forest-depths  of  this  far  western  wilderness,  called  Dum. 
iner  ?  Ten  years  ago,  it  might  not  inaptly  have  been  termed 
The  last  clearing  in  the  world."  Nor  to  this  day  do  I  know 
of  any  in  that  direction  which  extends  beyond  it.  Our  bush- 
farm  was  situated  on  the  border-line  of  a  neighbouring  town- 
ship,  only  one  degree  less  wild,  less  out  of  th«  world,  or 
nearer  to  the  habitations  of  civilization  than  the  far-famed 
"English  Line,"  the  boast  and  glory  of  this  terra  incognita. 

This  place,  so  named  by  the  emigrants  who  had  pitched 
their  tents  in  that  solitary  wilderness,  was  a  long  line  of 
cleared  land,  extending  upon  either  side  for  some  miles  through 
the  darkest  and  most  interminable  forest.     The  English  Line 
was  inhabited  chiefly  by  Cornish  miners,  who,  th-ed  of  burrow- 
mg  like  moles  underground,  had  determined  to  emigrate  to 
Canada,  where  they  could  breathe  the  fresh  air  of  hei    en 
and  obtam  the  necessaries  of  life  upon  the  bosom  of  their 
mother  earth.    Strange  as  it  may  appear,  these  men  m  de 
good  farmers,  and  steady,  industrious  colonists,  working   as 
well  above  ground  as  they  had  toiled  in  their  early  days  I  ^3- 
neath  it.     All  our  best  servants  came  from  Dumraer;  ai  1 
although  they  spoke  a  language  difficult  to  be  unders'too* 
and  were  uncouth  in  their  manners  and  appearance,  they  were 
faithful  and  obedient,  performing  the  tasks  assigned  to  them 


w 


Mi 


VOL.  IL 


8 


If,  |ii'i!f 


'  I 


,fH    :!        5 


nouonmo  it  in  the  busk 

with  patient  perseverance ;  jrood  food  and  kind  treatment 
rendering  them  always  ehcerful  and  contented. 

My  dear  old  Jenny,  that  most  faithful  and  attached  of  all 
humble  domestic  friends,  came  from  Dummer,  and  I  was 
wont  to  regard  it  with  complacency  for  her  sake.  But  Jenny 
was  not  English  ;  she  was  a  generous,  warm-hearted  daughter 
of  the  Green  Isle — the  emerald  gem  set  in  the  silver  of 
ocean.  Yes,  Jenny  was  one  of  the  poorest  children  of  that 
impoverished  but  glorious  country  where  wit  and  talent  seem 
indigenous,  springing  up  spontaneously  in  the  rudest  and  most 
uncultivated  minds ;  showing  what  the  land  could  bring  forth 
in  its  own  strength,  unaided  by  education,  and  unfettered  by 
the  conventional  rules  of  society.  Jenny  was  a  striking  in- 
stance of  the  worth,  noble  self-denial,  and  devotion,  which  are 
often  met  with — and,  alas !  but  too  often  disregarded — in  the 
poor  and  ignorant  natives  of  that  deeply-injured  and  much- 
abused  land.  A  few  words  about  my  old  favourite  may  not 
prove  uninteresting  to  my  readers. 

Jenny  Buchanan,  or,  as  she  called  it,  Bohanon,  was  the 
daughter  of  a  petty  exciseman,  of  Scotch  extraction  (hence 
her  industry),  who,  at  the  time  of  her  birth,  resided  near  the 
old  town  of  Irmiskillen.  Her  mother  died  a  few  months  after 
she  was  born  ;  and  her  father,  within  the  twelve  months,  mar- 
ried again  In  the  mean  while  the  poor  orphan  babe  had  been 
adopted  by  a  kind  neighbour,  the  wife  of  a  small  farmer  in 
the  vicinity. 

In  return  for  coarse  food  and  scanty  clothing,  the  little 
Jenny  became  a  servant  of  all  work.  She  fed  the  pigs,  herded 
the  cattle,  assisted  in  planting  potatoes  and  digging  peat  from 
the  bog,  and  was  undisputed  mistress  of  the  poultry-yard. 
As  she  grew  up  to  womanhood,  the  importance  of  her  labours 
increased.  A  better  reaper  in  the  harvest-field,  or  footer  of 
turf  in  the  bog,  could  not  be  found  in  the  district,  or  a  woman 


m 


(1  treatment 

ached  of  all 
,  and  1  was 
But  Jenny 
ted  daughter 
he  silver  of 
dren  of  that 
talent  seem 
3st  and  most 
}  bring  forth 
nfettered  by 

I  striking  in- 
n,  which  are 
rded — in  the 
d  and  much- 
rite  may  not 

on,  was  the 
ction  (hence 
ded  near  the 
months  after 
nonths,  mar- 
ibe  had  been 

II  farmer  in 

ig,  the  little 
pigs,  herded 
Ig  peat  from 
)Oultry-yard. 
f  her  labours 
or  footer  of 
or  a  woman 


T/JJ7  WiLK  TO  DUMiTEIt. 


171 


more  thorouRLly  „„^„„;„m  with  ,ho  management  of  cows 
and  he  rear.ng  „f  young  cattle;  but  hero  poor  Jenny  W 
complislinicnts  termh.atcd.  ' 

Her  usetlilness  was  all  abroad.    Within  the  house  she  made 

away     She  eould  neither  read,  nor  knit,  nor  sew-  and  al 
thongh   she  called  herself  a  Protestant,  and  a   cLrch  of" 
England  woman,  she  knew  no  more  of  religion,  as  revealed  to 
man  through  the  Word  of  God,  than  the^savlge  who    hi  : 
to  the  grave  in   ignorance   of  a   Redeemer.  "  Hence  I 

the  least  chance  ot  receiving  hereafter  the  condemnation  of" 

"  Oeh,  store  thin,"  she  would  say,  with  simple  camestnes, 
of  look  and  manner,  almost  irresistible,   "  God  will  never 
throuble  ILmser  about  a  poor,  hard-working  erathnr  like  me 
who  never  did  any  harm  to  the  manest  of  His  makin' "  ' 

_0„e  th,ng  was  certain,  that  a  benevolent  Providence  had 
throubled  iLmsel- "  about  poor  Jenny  in  times  past,  for  the 
warm  heart  of  this  neglected  child  of  Nature  Ltkinid  a 
strcatn  of  the  r,c  est  benevolence,  which,  situated  as  she  had 
been,  could  not  have  been  derived  from  any  other  source 
Honest,  fajthful,  and  industrious,  Jenny  became  a  law  unto 
herself,  and  practically  illustrated   the  golden  rule  of  her 
blessed  Lord,  "to  do  unto  others  as  we  would  they  should 
do  unto  us."    She  thought  it  was  impossible  that  her  poor 
services  could  ever  repay  the  debt  of  gratitude  th.Ht  she  owed 
to  the  family  who  had  brought  her  up,  although  the  obligation 
must  have  been  entirely  on  their  side.     To  them  she  was 
greatly  attached-for  them  she  toiled  unceasmgly ;  and  when 
ev,I  days  came,  and  they  were  not  able  to  meet  the  rent-dav 
or  to  occupy  the  farm,  she  determmed  to  accompany  them  in 
their  emigration  to  Canada,  and  formed  one  of  the  -tcit  •--rted 


''t-iJii-JimmiiiBig 


WcWWacp!:i#aM 


ill     f: 


j 

1:  ilH 

- 1  ^B^H 

■  i 

3 

1 

lliir 


■  II 


ft 


172 


EOUOmNQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


band  that  fixed  its  location  in  the  lonely  and  unexplored  wilds 
now  known  as  the  township  of  Diimmer. 

During  the  first  year  of  their  settlement,  the  means  of 
obtaining  the  common  necessaries  of  life  became  so  preca- 
rious, that,  in  order  to  assist  her  friends  with  a  little  ready 
money,  Jenny  determined  to  hire  out  into  some  wealthy 
house  as  a  servant.  When  I  use  the  terra  wealth  as  applied 
to  any  bush-settler,  it  is  of  course  only  comparatively  ;  but 
Jenny  was  anxious  to  obtain  a  place  with  settlers  who  enjoyed 
a  small  income  independent  of  their  forest  means. 

Her  first  speculation  was  a  complete  failure.  For  five 
long,  hopeless  years  she  served  a  master  from  whom  she 
never  received  a  farthing  of  her  stipulated  wages.  Still  her 
attachment  to  the  family,  was  so  strong,  and  had  become  so 
much  the  necessity  of  her  life,  that  the  poor  creature  could 
not  make  up  her  mind  to  leave  them.  Tlie  children  whom 
she  had  received  into  her  arms  at  their  birth,  and  whom  she 
had  nursed  with  maternal  tenderness,  were  as  dear  to  her  as 
if  thfv  had  been  her  own;  she  continued  to  work  for  them, 
although  her  clothes  were  worn  to  tatters,  and  her  own  friends 
were  too  poor  to  replace  them. 

Her  master,  Captain  N ,  a  handsome,  dashing  officer, 

who  had  served  many  years  in  India,  still  maintained  the  car- 
riage and  appearance  of  a  gentleman,  in  spite  of  his  mental 
and  moral  degradation,  arising  from  a  constant  state  of  intoxi- 
cation ;  he  rtill  promised  to  remunerate  at  some  future  day 
her  faithful  services ;  and  although  all  his  neighbours  well 
knew  that  his  means  were  exhausted,  and  that  that  day  would 
never  come,  yet  Jenny,  in  the  simplicity  of  her  faith,  still 
toiled  on,  in  the  hope  that  the  better  day  he  spoke  of  would 
soon  arrive. 

And  now  a  few  words  respecting  this  master,  which  I  trust 
may  serve  as  a  warning  to  others.    Allured  by  the  bait  that 


>lored  wilda 

)  means  of 
e  so  preca- 
little  ready 
ae  wealthy 
1  as  applied 
tively  ;  but 
•ho  enjoyed 

For  five 
whom  she 
.  Still  her 
become  so 
ature  could 
dren  whom 
1  whom  she 
ar  to  her  as 
k  for  them, 
own  friends 

hing  officer, 
led  the  car- 

his  mental 
,te  of  intoxi- 

future  day 
ibours  well 
t  day  would 
?  faith,  still 
e  of  would 

rhich  I  trust 
le  bait  that 


Tff^  WALK  TO  DUMMER. 


has  been  the  ruin  of 


173 


,..o;™cXT_!i^xtt,-^^^^^^^^^ 


out 
log 


tJempnh  m    f\,-   '  "'^^  been  induced  to  form 

niuch,  If  not  all,  of  his  available  means  in  builWln.       i 
house,  and  clearing  a  larcre  extent  nf  t  ,        ^  ^  ^"^ 

T^  +1  •        .     .  .      ^  *=    ®^^6"t  ot  barren  and  stnnv  Uy^a 

and  decenc  es  of  Hfr        5  '""™""  "^  »"  "■«  «<""forts 

c.espo„d:rir;r„:rj;':tsr^'"<'  ^'  '-• 

immoderate  use  of  ardpnt.n--.r.        ^  ^  ''^"'^^"^  ^^^ 
retained  h.  ha/plrreri  t  X  ^^ "  ^7" 

-Hou^H . .  ar/:ir;;Ce!rdZ«ri 

ty  the  same  disastrous  results  A  '  ,  .8".^'^'^'^  followed 
small,  in  a  country  where  mt;^  t  T^XZT  '"""" 
and  where  labour  cannot  beattaiLd  T.    .  P"'^""'''''' 

niary  remuneration,  is  nva  abk  'o  a  ",7"^  '"■^''  P*^™" 
tomed  to  agriculturll  emryme"  .  wh!  ^T.  'T  ™'"'™" 
to  pay  his  people,  duri,>g  the  W  but  ^^  ""'  '""™ 

seed-time  and  har'vest,  m'ust  eit'  r  wt  STrr"  1 
have  known  no  instance  in  which  such  „1»T   1  ""'    ' 

with  ultimate  advantage;  lu  al"' tot  '""""^"'^^ 
has  terminated  in  the^most  Its^^drsZtiTn't"  '' 

f:~„"- tcr  °  t'""': "  "^'^-p-ZoffieThreinrc:: 
who:::tx:rrrTirr;tt''rtT/^^^^ 

Of  finding  themselves  .anLldrs^f^tr  ^ "T  ^J 
W  ^-  '-  estates,  they  resign  a  certainty.-,^  was'teX 


tmi.  i- 

lis"  s-      I 


174 


ROUaUINO  IT  IN  THE  BUSK 


energies,  and  die  half-starved  and  broken-hearted  in  the  depths 
of  the  pitiless  wild. 

If  a  gentleman  so  situated  would  give  up  all  idea  of  settling 
on  his  gvcnt,  but  hire  a  good  farm  in  a  favourable  situation — 
that  is,  not  too  far  from  a  market — and  with  his  half  pay  hire 
efficient  labourers,  of  which  plenty  are  now  to  be  had,  to  cul- 
tivate the  land,  with  common  prudence  and  economy,  he 
would  soon  obtain  a  comfortable  subsistence  for  his  flimily. 
And  if  the  males  were  brought  up  to  share  the  burden  and 
heat  of  the  day,  the  expense  of  hired  labour,  as  it  yearly 
diminished,  would  add  to  the  general  means  and  well-being 
of  the  whole,  until  the  hired  farm  became  the  real  property 
of  the  industrious  tenants.  But  the  love  of  show,  the  vain 
boast  of  appearing  richer  and  better  dressed  than  our  neigh- 
bours, too  often  involves  the  emigrant's  family  in  debt,  from 
which  they  are  seldom  able  to  extricate  themselves  without 
sacrificing  the  means  which  would  have  secured  their  inde- 
pendence. 

This,  although  a  long  digression,  will  not,  I  hope,  be  with- 
out its  use ;  and  if  this  book  is  regarded  not  as  a  work  of 
amusement  but  one  of  practical  experience,  written  for  the 
benefit  of  others,  it  will  not  fail  to  convey  some  useful  hints 
to  those  who  have  contemplated  emigration  to  Canada :  the 
best  country  in  the  world  for  the  industrious  and  well-prmci- 
pled  man,  who  really  comes  out  to  work,  and  to  better  his 
condition  by  the  labour  of  his  hands ;  but  a  gulf  of  ruin  to  the 
vain  and  idle,  who  only  set  foot  upon  these  shores  to  accele- 
rate their  ruin. 

But  to  return  to  Captain  N .     It  was  at  this  disastrous 

period  that  Jenny  entered  his  service.  Had  her  master 
adapted  his  habits  and  expenditure  to  his  altered  circumstances, 
much  misery  might  have  been  spared,  both  to  himself  and  his 
family.    But  he  was  a  proud  man — too  proud  to  work,  or  to 


mi  : 
^  'Hi 


THE   WALK  TO  DUMMER.  j^g 

iiw  n,ilUiv  ihzwl,  but  woll-meaiiing  iiei^hliours 

».vs  an  Iri.sl„n,i„),  wl,o.se  ofl-.T  of  drawing  wooj  1,-„1 

been  rejected  with  unmerited  contempt      "  \VM,     t 

and  we  slu.ll  see  what  hi.s  pride  wirdCfo,-  h  „      7   "  ''"'" 

for  his  poor  wife  and  child  en ;  but  for  Wmse  M  h        "  """ 
for  hiin."  "luibolt,  1  have  no  pity 

whl't  "'™  '"'^. ''''"  "'°'''''y  '"^""«^'  ••"  "'«  -ery  moment 

.>■'„";  '.tl,e  ^^   ^"8''f '"»"'  '-  '--'  was  softened  b; 
wm  esMug  the  sufferings  of  a  young  delicate  female  and  her 

t  .::  f;  JT'^  f  ™'"^  "^  "-  ^''P-i"'-^'  foolish  el 

ga„t\;;rb:nrpr:;:r;:n-r"'''' '"  ^"^■"■•"^'  '"^  - 

The  year  after  the  sale  of  his  commission,  Captain  N 
found  Inmself  considerably  in  debt,  "  Never  mM  Elh^ 
saul  to  his  anxious  wife  ;  "  the  crops'  will  ^,  7^'  ''"'''    ""^ 

llie  crops  were  a  failure  that  year      Tm,!;. 
hard;  the  Captain  had  no  money  to  pi;  his  w    C  ^r^ 
would  not  work  himself.     Distrusted  with  ^.■   7     '■ 

unable  t,,„^,    ^. .  ,^;rr:^^^:^^';;;^  ^ 

class    for  ho  was  the  only  gentleman  then  resident  in  Z  Z 
township),  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  his  existence  wiThtK 
society,  or  to  afford  him  advice  o'r  assistanc:  rL:  tffi':^ 
.es,  the^fau.  whiskey-bottle  became  his  refuge  fl  J  ^^ 

eau!;xi":r*-r:rrdT;^r\^°'"^^ 

to  wean  him  from  the  growing  vice    Vu'  !    "' .."  T" 
J  of  an  angel,  in  such^circmra:  c^s,  ^It  e tdCj 

.-imy  ^''"oj  '^"u  «u  furxcied  that  he  loved  his 


: ! 


iu:; 


NP 


176 


EOUOIUNG  IT  JN  THE  BUSH. 


IIS 


: 


it 


i-ii 


In 
.„  HI 


children,  while  he  was  daily  reducing  them,  by  his  favourite 
vice,  to  beggary. 

For  awhile,  he  confined  his  excesses  to  his  own  fireside, 
but  this  was  only  for  as  long  a  period  as  the  sale  of  his  stock 
and  land  would  supply  him  with  the  means  of  criminal  indul- 
gence. After  a  time,  all  these  resources  failed,  and  his  large 
grant  of  eight  hundred  acres  of  land  had  been  converted  into 
whiskey,  except  the  one  hundred  acres  on  which  his  house 
and  barn  stood,  embracing  the  small  clearing  from  which  the 
family  derived  their  scanty  supply  of  wheat  and  potatoes.  For 
the  sake  of  peace,  his  wife  gave  up  all  her  ornaments  and 
household  plate,  and  the  best  articles  of  a  once  handsome  and 
ample  wardrobe,  in  the  hope  of  hiding  her  sorrows  from  the 
world,  and  keeping  her  husband  at  home. 

The  pride,  that  had  rendered  him  so  obnoxious  to  his 
humbler  neighbours,  yielded  at  length  to  the  inordinate  craving 
for  drink ;  the  man  who  had  held  himself  so  high  above  his 
honest  and  mdustrious  fellow-settlers,  could  now  unblushingly 
enter  their  cabins  and  beg  for  a  drop  of  whiskey.  The  feel- 
ing of  shame  once  subdued,  there  was  no  end  to  his  audacious 
mendicity.  His  whole  time  was  spent  in  wandering  about 
the  country,  calling  upon  every  new  settler,  in  the  hope  of 
being  asked  to  partake  of  the  coveted  poison.  He  was  even 
known  to  enter  by  the  window  of  an  emigrant's  cabin,  during 
the  absence  of  the  owner,  and  remain  drinking  in  the  house 
while  a  drop  of  spirits  could  be  found  in  the  cupboard.  When 
driven  forth  by  the  angry  owner  of  the  hut,  he  wandered  on 

to  the  distant  town  of  P ,  and  lived  there  in  a  low  tavern, 

while  his  wife  and  children  were  starving  at  home. 

"  He  is  tlie  filthiest  beast  in  the  township,"  said  the  afore- 
mentioned neighbour  to  me ;  "  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  his 
wife  and  children  if  his  worthless  neck  were  broken  in  one  of 
his  drunken  sprees." 


is  favourite 


THE  WALK  TO  HUMMER.  177 

Ar  "^f'l^'fu' '"  ""  ""'''"'^'"''y  «"=t,  but  it  ™,  not  the  less, 

h    ;  r     1  r  ""'•     ^°  '■"^'"""'  °f  -  "O-oCionato  wife 
-the  fatlier  of  a  lovely  family-and  his  death  to  be  a  matter 

of  rejo,e,„g!    a  blessing,  instead  of  being  an  afflietion  !_an 
agony  not  to  be  thought  ui«>n  without  the  deepest  sorrow 

It  was  at  this  melaneholy  period  of  her  sad  history  that 
;!:  ;     ;;~.     "'''  ■"  •^'^""^  Buehanan,  a  help  in  her  hour  of 

wideh    ^'^^Tf  "'"  *■"""■"'  "^^"'"^  '>>«<'  f"^  'he  misery 
v.h  eh  mvolved  the  wite  of  her  degraded  master,  and  tho 

allrilt  "  '"''^'°™^-  ^^'^  ™'  -^  -destitution 
called  all  the  sympathies  of  her  ardent  nature  into  aetivo 
operation;  they  were  long  indebted  to  her  labour  for  every 
^orsel  of  food  whieh  they  eonsumed.  For  them,  she  sowed 
^ho  planted,  she  reaped.  Every  bloeI<  of  wood  which  shed  a 
eheer,„g  warmth  around  their  desolate  home  was  eut  from 
the  forest  by  her  o™  hands,  and  brought  up  a  steep  hill 
to  the  house  upon  her  back.  Tor  them,  she  eoaxed  the 
ue,ghbours,  w:th  whom  she  was  a  general  favourite,  out  of 
many  a  mess  of  eggs  for  their  especial  benefit;  while  with 

n  lied  Tf  ™'  '"'"■■'^'  '"'P^'"'"  'J'^P-"--.  ^he  di. 

pel  ed  much  of  the  cramping  despair  which  chilled  the  heart 
of  the  unhappy  mother  in  her  deseited  home 

For  several  years  did  this  great,  poor  woman  keep  the 
wolf  from  the  door  of  her  beloved  mistress,  toiling  for  her 
with  the  strength  and  energy  of  a  man.  When  was  man  ever 
80  devoted,  so  devoid  of  all  selfishness,  so  attached  to  employ, 
ers,  yet  poorer  than  herself,  as  this  uneducated  Irishw^™  I 

In  tXTt^'"^  "  't"^""  P"*  '"  '■<"•  "'^eq^itod  service's. 
in  a  fit  of  mtoxication  her  master  beat  her  severely  with  the 

iron  ramrod  of  his  gun,  and  turned  her,  with  abusive  Ian! 

pmge,  from  h,s  doors.     Oh,  hard  return  for  aU  her  unpaid 

labours  of  love !    She  forgave  this  outrage  for  thesake  o/the 

helpless  bemgs  who  depended  upon  her  care.     He  repeated 

Viil.     ir  nil.  *   ' 


m. 


VUL.  11. 


8* 


1^  . 


ft  I-  *^       ^ 


178 


liOUOlllNQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSIL 


the  injury,  and  the  poor  creature  returned  almost  heart- 
broken to  her  foriner  home. 

Thinking  that  his  spite  would  subside  in  a  few  days,  Jenny 
made  a  third  effort  to  enter  his  house  in  her  usual  capacity  ; 

but  Mrs.  N told  her,  with  many  tears,  that  her  presence 

would  only  enrage  her  husband,  who  had  threatened  herself 
with  the  most  cruel  treatment  if  she  allowed  the  faithful  ser- 
vant again  to  enter  the  house.  Thus  ended  her  five  years' 
service  to  this  ungrateful  master.     Such  was  her  reward ! 

I  iieard  of  Jenny's  worth  and  kindness  from  the  English- 
man who  had  been  so  grievously  affronted  by  Captain  N , 

and  sent  for  her  to  come  to  me.  She  instantly  accepted  my 
offer,  and  returned  with  my  messenger.  She  had  scarcely  a 
garment  to  cover  her.  I  was  obliged  to  find  her  a  suit  of 
clothes  before  I  could  set  her  to  work.  The  smiles  and  dim- 
ples of  my  curly-headed,  rosy  little  Donald,  then  a  baby-lxjy 
of  fifteen  months,  consoled  the  old  woman  for  her  separation 

from  Ellie  N ;   and  the  good-will  with  whuh  all  the 

children  (now  four  in  number)  regarded  the  kind  old  body, 
soon  endeared  to  her  the  new  home  which  Providence  had 
assigned  to  her. 

Her  accounts  of  Mrs.  N ,  and  her  family,  soon  deeply 

interested  me  in  her  flite  ;  and  Jenny  never  went  to  visit  hur 
friends  in  Dummer  without  an  interchange  of  good  wishes 
passing  between  us. 

The  year  of  the  Canadian  rebellion  came,  and  brought 
with  it  sorrow  into  many  a  bush  dwelling.  Old  Jenny  and 
I  were  left  alone  with  the  little  children,  in  the  depths  of 
the  dark  forest,  to  help  ourselves  in  the  best  way  we  could. 
Men  could  not  be  procured  in  that  thinly-settled  spot  for 
love  nor  money,  and  I  now  fully  realized  the  extent  of  Jen- 
ny's usefulness.  Daily  she  yoked  the  oxen,  and  brought  down 
from  the  bush  fuel  to  maintain  our  fires,  which  she  felled  and 


TUB  WALK  TV  OOUMEB. 


179 


chorped  „p  w,th  her  own  hand,.  She  fed  the  cattle,  and  kept 
-.11  thmgs  snug  about  the  doo«;  not  forgetting  to  load  her 
master's  two  guns,  "  in  case,"  as  she  said,  "  the'ribe.s  sho  d 
attacls  us  in  our  retrate." 

The  months  of  November  and  December  of  1838  had  been 
unuatura  ly  „,i,d  for  this  iron  climate;  but  the  opening  of  he 

ro  nd  the  blazu,g  fire,  that  scarcely  chased  the  cold  from  our 

cheered  by  the  unexpected  presence  of  my  beloved  friend 
Em,ha,  who  came  to  spend  a  week  with  L  in  „y  forest 

Pb'  o(  buffalo  robes,  not  forgetting  a  treat  of  baker's  bread 

kind  IroT'        "  '^  "'"""■''"•     °'''  *"'  E"'"- '  »--'  ""d 

lon'sbnn    T""'  t'"^"  *'""'  '"  y""  ""''^  '»0,  long, 
long  shal  my  heart  cherish  with  affectionate  gratitude  a  1  your 

Zs^:^  rr-""'  't  '» ^°"  - '°  -^  -«-•  "-d.  and  fS 

almost  total  neglect  of  those  from  whom  nature  claimed  a 
tenderer  and  holier  sympathy. 

Great  was  the  joy  of  Jenny  at  this  accession  to  our  family 

party ;  and  after  Mrs.  S was  well  warmed,  and  had  par- 

taken  o.  tea-the  only  refreshment  we  could  offer  her--we 
began  to  talk  over  the  news  of  the  place. 

"  By  the  by,  Jenny,"  said  she,  turning  to  the  old  servant 
who  was  undressing  the  little  boy  by  the  fire,  «  have  you  heard 

lately  from  poor  Mrs.  N ?    We  have  been  told  that  she 

and  the  family  are  in  a  dreadful  state  of  destitution.     That 

worthless  man  has  left  them  for  the  States,  and       s  supposed 

hat  he  has  joined  Mackenzie's   band  of  ruffians  on  Navy 

,  _.^  .r^t..t.r  una  ue  true  or  iaise,  he  has  deserted  Ms 


-'irmmmmmmmm... 


i 


180 


EOUOHINO  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


If. 


1^ 


wife  and  children,  taking  his  eldest  son  along  with  him  (who 
might  have  been  of  some  service  at  home),  and  leaving  them 
without  money  or  food." 

"  The  good  Lord  !  What  will  become  of  the  crathurs  1" 
responded  Jenny,  wiping  her  wrinkled  cheek  with  the  back  of 
her  hard,  brown  hand.  "  An'  thin  they  have  not  a  sowl  to 
chop  and  draw  them  firewood  ;  an'  the  weather  so  oncommon 
savarc.  Och  hone  !  what  has  not  that  baste  of  a  man  to  answer 
for?" 

"  I  heard,"  continued  Mrs.  S ,  « that  they  have  tasted 

no  food  but  potatoes  for  the  last  nine  months,  and  scarcely 
enough  of  them  to  keep  soul  and  body  together ;  that  they 
have  sold  their  last  cow ;  and  the  poor  young  lady  and  her 
second  brother,  a  lad  of  only  twelve  years  old,  bring  all  the 
wood  for  the  fire  from  the  bush  on  a  hand-sleigh." 

"  Oh,  dear ! — oh,  dear !"  sobbed  Jenny  ;  "  an'  I  not  thorf 
to  hilp  them !  An'  poor  Miss  Mary,  the  tinder  thir.g !  Oh,  'tif. 
hard,  terribly  hard  for  the  crathurs  !  an'  they  not  used  to  thr 
like.^^ 

"  Can  nothing  be  done  for  them  1"  said  I. 

"  That  is  what  we  want  to  know,"  returned  Emilia,  "  and 

that  was  one  of  my  reasons  for  coming  up  to  D .     I 

wanted  to  consult  you  and  Jenny  upon  the  subject.  You 
who  are  an  officer's  wife,  and  I,  who  am  both  an  officer's  wift 
and  daughter,  ought  to  devise  some  plan  of  rescuing  thi» 
unfortunate  lady  and  her  family  from  her  present  forlorc 
situation." 

The  tears  sprang  to  my  eyes,  and  I  thought,  in  the  bitter 
ness  of  my  heart,  upon  my  own  galling  poverty,  that  m' 
pockets  did  not  contain  even  a  single  copper,  and  that  I  har 
scarcely  garments  enough  to  shield  me  from  the  inclemencj 
of  the  weather.  By  unflinching  industry,  and  taking  my  par\ 
■n  the  toil  of  the  field,  I  had  bread  for  myself  and  family,  and 


TUB  WALK  TO  DUMMER. 


IF' 


this  was  more  than  poor  Mrs.  N possess*        t)ut  it  aj>- 

peared  impossible  for  me  to  be  of  any  assistance  to  the  un- 
happy sufferer,  and  the  thought  of  my  incapacity  gave  me 
severe  pain.  It  was  only  in  moments  like  the  present  that  I 
felt  the  curse  of  poverty. 

"  Well,"  continued  my  friend,  « you  see,  Mrs.  Moodie, 

that  the  ladies  of  P are  all  anxious  to  do  what  they  can 

for  her ;  but  they  first  want  to  leani  if  the  miserable  circum- 
stances  in  which  she  is  said  to  be  placed  are  true.  In  short, 
my  dear  friend,  they  want  you  and  me  to  make  a  pilgrimage 
to  Dummor,  to  see  the  poor  lady  herself;  and  then  they  will 
be  guided  by  our  report." 

♦'  Then  let  us  lose  no  time  in  going  upon  our  own  mission 
of  mercy." 

"  Och,  my  dear  heart,  you  will  be  lost  in  the  woods !"  said 
old  Jenny.  « It  is  nine  long  miles  to  the  first  clearing,  and 
that  through  a  lonely,  blazed  path.  After  you  are  through 
the  beaver-meadow,  there  is  not  a  single  hut  for  you  to  rest 
or  warm  yourselves.  It  is  too  much  for  the  both  ^of  yecs  ; 
you  will  be  frozen  to  death  on  the  road." 

"  No  fear,"  said  my  benevolent  friend  ;  «  God  will  take 
care  of  us,  Jenny.  It  is  on  His  errand  we  go ;  to  carry  a 
message  of  hope  to  one  about  to  perish." 

"  The  Lord  bl(?ss  you  for  a  darllnt,"  cried  the  old  woman, 
devoutly  kissing  the  velvet  cheek  of  the  little  fellow  sleeping 
upon  her  lap.  «  May  your  own  purty  child  never  know  the 
want  and  sorrow  that  is  around  her." 

Emilia  and  I  talked  over  the  Dummer  scheme  until  we 
fell  asleep.  Many  were  the  plans  we  proposed  for  the  imme- 
diate relief  of  the  unfortunate  family.     Early  the  next  morn- 

ing,  my  brother-in-law,  Mr.  T ,  called  upon  my  friend. 

The  subject  next  our  heart  was  immediately  introduced,  and 
" ""^    ""'  ''     general  councii.    His  feelings,  like  our 


IHu; 


183 


Hououma  it  in  tub  bush. 


\\\  . 


fill 


I 


1 ,. 


own,  were  deeply  interested ;  and  he  proposed  that  wo  should 
each  provide  something  from  our  own  small  stores  to  satisfy 
the  pressing  wants  of  the  distressed  family ;  while  he  prom- 
ised to  bring  his  cutter  the  next  moniing,  and  take  us  through 
the  beaver-meadow,  and  to  the  edge  of  the  great  swamp, 
•which  would  shorten  four  miles,  at  least,  of  our  long  and 
hazardous  journey. 

We  joyfully  acceded  to  his  proposal,  and  set  cheerfully  to 
work  to  provide  for  the  morrow.  Jenny  baked  a  batch  of 
her  very  best  bread,  .?nd  boiled  a  large  piece  of  beef;  and 

Mr.  T brought  with  Kim,  the  next  day,  a  fine  cooked 

ham,  in  a  sack,  into  the  bottom  of  which  he  stowed  the  beef 
and  loaves,  besides  some  sugar  and  tea,  which  his  own  kind 
wife,  the  author  of  "  The  Backwoods  of  Canada,"  had  sent.  I 
had  some  misgivings  as  to  the  manner  in  which  these  good 
things  could  be  introduced  to  the  poor  lady,  who,  I  had  heard, 
■was  reserved  and  proud. 

"  Oh,  Jenny,"  I  said,  "  how  shall  I  be  able  to  ask  her  to 
accept  pij^visions  from  strangers?  I  am  afraid  of  wounding 
her  feelings." 

"  Oh,  darlint,  never  fear  that !  She  is  proud,  I  know ;  but 
'tis  not  a  stiff  pride,  but  jist  enough  to  consale  her  disthress 
from  her  ignorant  English  neighbours,  who  think  so  manely 
of  poor  folk  like  her  who  were  once  rich.  She  will  be  very 
thankful  to  you  for  your  kindness,  for  she  has  not  experienced 
much  of  it  from  the  Dummer  people  in  her  throuble,  though 
she  may  have  no  wovds  to  tell  you  so.  Say  that  old  Jenny 
sent  the  bread  to  dear  wee  Ellie,  'cause  she  knew  she  would 
like  a  loaf  of  Jenny's  bakin'." 
"  But  the  meat." 
.  "Och,  the  mate,  is  it?  Maybe,  you'll  think  of  some  ex- 
cuse  for  the  mate  when  you  get  there." 

"  I  hope  so ;  but  I'm  a  sad  coward  with  strangeis,  and  I 


TUK   WALK  TO  DUmtKR. 


183 


havo  lived  so  long  out  of  the  world  that  I  am  at  a  groat  loss 
what  to  do.  J  will  try  and  put  a  good  faco  ou  tho  mutter. 
Your  name,  Jenny,  will  be  no  small  help  to  mo." 

All  was  now  rcadj  Kissing  our  litthi  bairns,  who  crowd- 
ed around  us  with  eager  and  incpiiriiig  louks,  and  charging 
Jenny  for  the  hundredth  time  to  take  especial  care  of  them 
during  our  absence,  wo  mounted  the  cutter,  and  set  ofF,  under 

the  care  and  protection  of  Mr.  T ,  who  determiucd  to  ac 

company  us  on  the  journey. 

It  was  a  black,  cold  day ;  no  sun  visible  in  the  gray,  dark 
sky;  a  keen,  cutting  wind,  and  hard  frost.  Wo  crouched 
close  to  each  other. 

"Good  heavens,  how  cold  it  is!"  whispered  Emilia. 
"  What  a  day  for  such  a  journey  !" 

She  had  scarcely  ceased  speaking,  when  the  cutter  went 
upon  a  stump  which  lay  concealed  under  the  drifted  snow ; 
and  we,  together  with  the  ruins  of  our  conveyance,  were  scat- 
tered  around. 

"  A  bad  beginning,"  said  my  brother-in-law,  with  a  rueful 
aspect,  as  he  surveyed  the  wreck  of  the  cutter  from  which  we 
had  promised  ourselves  so  much  benefit.  "  There  is  no  help 
for  it  but  to  return  home." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Mrs.  S ;  "  bad  beginnings  make  good 

endings,  you  know.  Let  us  go  on ;  it  will  be  far  better  walk- 
ing than  riding  such  a  dreadful  day.  My  feet  arc  half  frc<en 
already  with  sitting  still." 

"  But,  my  dear  madam,"  expostulated  Mr.  T ,  "  con- 
sider the  distance,  the  road,  the  dark,  dull  day,  and  our  im- 
perfect knowledge  of  the  path.  I  will  get  the  cutter  mended 
to-morrow ;  and  the  day  after  we  may  be  able  to  proceed." 

"  Delays  are  dangerous,"  said  the  pertinacious  Emilia,  who, 
woman-like,  was  determined  to  have  her  own  way.  "  Now, 
or  never.    Wliile  we  wait  for  the  broken  cutter,  the  broken- 


184 


BOUGmNa  IT  IN  TEE  BUSH. 


i  ■<' 


T^^^^^^^^HH 


hearted  Mrs.  N may  starve.     We  can  stop  at  Colonel 

C 's  and  warm  ourselves,  and  you  can  leave  the  cutter  at 

his  house  until  our  return." 

"  It  was  upon  your  account  that  I  proposed  the  delay," 

said  the  good  Mr.  T ,  taking  the  sack,  which  was  no  in- 

considerable  weight,  upon  his  shoulder,  and  driving  his  horse 

before  him  into  neighbour  W 's  stable.     "  Where  you 

go,  I  am  ready  to  follow." 

When  we  arrived.  Colonel  C 's  family  were  at  break- 

fast,  of  which  they  made  us  partake ;  and  after  vainly  en- 
deavouring to  dissuade  us  from  what  appeared  to  them  our 

Quixotic  expedition,  Mrs.  C added  a  dozen  fme  white  fish 

to  the  contents  of  the  sack,  and  sent  her  youngest  son  to  help 

Mr.  T along  with  his  burthen,  and  to  bear  us  company 

on  ou"  desolate  road. 

Leaving  the  Colonel's  hospitable  house  on  our  left,  we 
again  plunged  into  the  woods,  and  after  a  few  minutes'  brisk 
walking,  found  ourselves  upon  the  brow  of  a  steep  bank  that 
overlooked  the  beaver-meat  v^,  containing  within  its  area 
several  hundred  acres. 

There  is  no  scenery  in  the  bush  that  presents  such  a  novel 
appearance  as  those  meadows,  or  openings,  surrounded,  as 
they  invariably  are,  by  dark,  intricate  forests;  their  high, 
rugged  banks  covered  with  the  light,  airy  tamarack  and  silver 
birch.  In  summer  they  look  like  a  lake  of  soft,  rich  verdure, 
hidden  in  the  bosom  of  the  barren  and  howling  waste.  Lakes 
they  certainly  have  been,  from  which  the  waters  have  rece- 
ded,  "ages,  ages  long  ago  ;"  and  still  the  whole  length  of  these 
curious  level  valleys  is  traversed  by  a  stream,  of  no  inconsid- 
erable dimensions. 

The  waters  of  the  narrow,  rapid  creek,  which  flowed 
through  the  meadow  we  were  about  to  cross,  were  of  spark 
ling  brightness,  and  icy  cold.    The  frost-king  had  no  power 


THE  WALK  TO  LUMMER. 


185 


to  check  their  swift,  dancing  movements,  or  stop  their  per- 
petual song.  On  they  leaped,  sparkling  and  flashing  beneath 
their  ice-crowned  banks,  rejoicing  as  they  revelled  on  in  their 
lonely  course.  In  the  prime  of  the  year,  this  is  a  wild  and 
lovely  spot,  the  grass  is  of  the  richest  green,  and  the  flowers 
of  the  most  gorgeous  dyes.  The  gayest  butterflies  float 
above  them  upon  painted  wings;  and  the  whip-poor-will 
pours  forth  from  the  neighbouring  woods,  at  close  of  dewy 
eve,  his  strange  but  sadly  plaintive  cry.  Winter  was  now 
upon  the  earth,  and  the  once  green  meadow  looked  like  a 
small  forest  lake  covered  with  snow. 

The  first  step  we  made  mto  it  plunged  us  up  to  the  knees 
in  the  snow,  which  was  drifted  to  a  great  height  in  the  open 

space.     Mr.  T and  our  young  friend  C walked  on 

ahead  of  us,  in  order  to  break  a  track  through  the  untrodden 
snow.  We  soon  reached  the  cold  creek ;  but  here  a  new 
difficulty  presented  itself.  It  was  too  wide  to  jump  across, 
and  we  could  see  no  other  way  of  passing  to  the  other  side. 

"  There  must  be  some  sort  of  a  bridge  hereabout,"  said 

young  C ,  "  or  how  can  the  people  from  Dummer  pass 

constantly  during  the  winter  to  and  fro.  I  will  go  along  the 
bank,  and  halloo  to  you  if  I  find  one." 

In  a  few  minutes  he  gave  the  desired  signal,  and  on  reach- 
ing the  spot,  we  found  a  round,  slippery  log  flung  across  the 
stream  by  way  of  bridge.  With  some  trouble,  and  after 
various  slips,  we  got  safely  on  the  other  side.  To  wet  our 
feet  would  have  been  to  ensure  their  being  frozen  ;  and  as  it 
was,  we  were  not  without  serious  apprehensions  on  that  score. 
After  crossing  the  bleak,  snowy  plain,  we  scrambled  over 
another  brook,  and  entered  the  great  swamp,  which  occupied 
two  miles  of  our  dreary  road. 

It  would  be  vain  to  attempt  giving  any  description  of  this 
tangled  maze  of  closely-mterwoven  cedars,  fallen  trees,  and 


186 


HOUGHING  IT  m  THE  HUSH. 


M  s 


-I 


i! 


Wscattored  masses  of  rock.    It  seemed  the  fitting  abode 
of  wolves  and  bears,  and  ever,  other  unclean  be..,t.    The  Z 

b rSd "  T' '""  ^"'"'""'  ™^^"« ""'  -^ 

l«d  to  .amber  over  P-tratcU^e    '  ^  t^Sii: 
from  wlnch  we  plumped  down  into  holes  in  the  s^wlk  in! 

Cn  to  thhf "  ""/""  '""f  "'■■""g'-  «>»  B-t  swamp.'we 
began  to    hn,k  ourselves  sad  fools,  and  to  wish  that  we  were 

^  Viet'"  the  ::;.7f 'f  ^^-   ^"''  *-•  "  «-'  o>'J-t  w 
1  "firnf  h  '  *'"'"''"'^  fcllow-crcature,  and  like 

^Jt::i1S^Zl^<  -  -™  'o  over. 
It  took  us  an  hour  at  least  to  dear  the  great  swamp  from 
wh,c,  we  emerged  into  a  fine  wood,  composed  Icflo? 

d  : 71  !    ""  "f'  '"™«  ""^  ""'"--  "'  *°^- 

sha  I.S  of  the  swamp,  bu^t  through  his  leaden  shroud   and 
-St  a  cheery  glean,  along  the  rugged  boles  of  the  loftTtrct 

onr  path,  the  dazzhng  snow  which  covered  it  reflected  the 
branches  above  us  in  an  endless  variety  of  dancing  s" 

Our  sp,r,ts  rose  m  proportion.     Young  C burst  o  ,t,W 

2  and  Emilia  and  I  laughed  and  ktted  as Te  n  7d 
along  our  narrow  road.  On,  on  for  hours,  the  same  intrmf 
nable  forest  stretched  away  to  the  right  and  left,  beforlrd 

"  if'wl' dot  r'™'"  ™'^  "^  ^'"'^'^  T-_,  thoughtfully . 
It  we  do  not  soon  come  to  a  clearing  we  mn„    t 

spend  the  night  in  the  forest.  "  ^  ''"'"'^'*  "> 

^   "Oh,  I  am  dying  with  hunger,"  cried  Emilia.    "DoC 
g.ve  us  one  or  two  of  the  cakes  your  mother  put  mto'th^^ 
for  us  to  eat  upon  the  road."  ^ 


TUE  WALK  TO  DUMMER. 


187 


The  ginger-cakes  were  instantly  produced.  But  where 
were  the  teeth  to  b(  found  that  could  masticate  them  ?  The 
cakes  were  frozen  as  hard  as  stones ;  this  was  a  gi'eat  disap- 
pointment to  us  tired  and  hungry  wights ;  but  it  only  produced 
a  hearty  laugh.  Over  the  logs  we  went  again ;  for  it  was  a 
perpetual  stepping  up  and  down,  crossing  the  fallen  trees  that 
obstructed  our  path.  At  last  we  came  to  a  spot  where  two 
distinct  blazed  roads  diverged. 

"  What  are  we  to  do  now  ]"  said  Mr.  T . 

We  stopped,  and  a  general  consultation  was  held,  and 
without  one  dissenting  voice  we  took  the  branch  to  the  right, 
which,  after  pursuing  for  about  half-a-mile,  led  us  to  a  log  hut 
of  the  rudest  description. 

"  Is  this  the  road  to  Dummer  ?"  we  asked  a  man,  who  was 
chopping  wood  outside  the  fence. 

"I  guess  you  are  m  Dummer  f  was  the  answer. 

My  heart  leaped  for  joy,  for  I  was  dreadfully  fatigued. 

"  Does  this  road  lead  through  the  English  Line  ?" 

"  That's  another  thing,"  returned  the  woodman.  "  No ; 
you  turned  off  from  the  right  path  when  you  came  up  here." 
We  all  looked  very  blank  at  each  other.  "  You  will  have  to 
go  back,  and  keep  the  other  road,  and  that  will  lead  you 
straight  to  the  English  Line." 

"  How  many  miles  is  it  to  Mrs.  N 's  1" 

"  Some  four,  or  thereabouts,"  was  the  cheering  rejoinder. 
"  'Tis  one  of  the  last  clearings  on  the  line.  If  you  are  going 
back  to  Douro  to-night,  you  must  look  sharp." 

Sadly  and  dejectedly  we  retraced  our  steps.  Tliere  are 
few  trifling  failures  more  bitter  in  our  journey  through  life 
than  that  of  a  tired  traveller  mistaking  his  road.  What  effect 
must  that  tremendous  failure  produce  upon  the  human  mind 
when,  at  the  end  of  life's  unretraceable  journey,  the  traveller 
finds  that  he  has  fallen  upon  the  wrong  track  throuffh  every 


^.^ 


188 


Jiouamxff  IT  £v  mk  mitsjt. 


iitf! 


Btage  and  instead  of  arriving  at  the  land  of  blissful  promise 
sinks  for  ever  into  the  gulf  of  despair  -  ^  ' 

on  if'", '^"'™^^  *".''.'«'  "-"dden  in  the  wong  path,  ,vhile  led 
on  by  hope  and  ant.cpation,  now  seemed  to  double  in  length 
asw,th  panrful  steps  we  t<,iled  on  to  reaeh  the  right  road 
Th,s  objeet  onee  attained,  soon  led  us  to  the  dwellings  of  men' 

patches  of  cleanng,  arose  on  either  side  of  the  forest  road  • 

do°o'rs  t°"t"r.r'  '"'''  ''  •"•  ""»  *■"""-  -»  shouting  tn. 
doo     to  tell  their  respective  owners  that  strangers  were  pass- 

A  servant  who  had  hired  two  years  with  my  brother-in-law 
we  kne^  must  live  somewhere  in  this  neighbourhood,  at 
whose  fires,de  we  hoped  not  only  to  rest  and  warm  ourseWes. 
but  to  Ob  tarn  something  to  eat.  On  going  up  to  one  of  the 
cabm  to  .nqmre  for  Hamiah  J__,  we  fortunately  happened 
to  hght  upon  the  very  person  we  sought.     With  many  Ll^ 

r :;  tzr '"'  "^"^^^^ "'  '•" '--  -^^^  -'  — '■ 

A  blazing  fire,  composed  of  two  huge  logs,  was  roaring  up 
he  wide  chimney,  and  the  savoury  smell  that  issued  from  I 
large  pot  of  pea-soup  was  very  agreeable  to  our  cold  and 
hungry  stomachs.  But,  alas,  the  refreshment  went  no  further  - 
Hannah  most  politely  begged  us  to  t^ke  seats  by  the  fire  and 
warm  and  rest  ourselves;  she  even  knelt  down  and  assLted 
m  rubbing  our  half-frozen  hands;  but  she  never  once  made 
mention  of  the  hot  soup,  or  of  the  tea,  which  was  drawirt 
a  in  tea-pot  upon  the  hearth-stone,  or  of  a  glass  of  whiskey, 

Hannah  was  not  an  Irishwoman,  no,  nor  a  Scotch  lassie,  or 
her  very  first  request  would  have  been  for  us  to  take  "a 


TEE  WALK  TO  DUMMER.  jgQ 

pickle  of  soup"  or  "a  sup  of  thae  warm  broths."  The  soup 
was  no  doubt  cooking  for  Hannah's  husband  and  two  neigh- 
bours, who  were  chopping  for  him  in  the  bush;  and  whose 
want  of  punctuality  she  feelingly  lamented, 
^  As  we  left  her  cottage,  and  jogged  on,  Emilia  whispered, 
laughmg,  "!  hope  you  are  satisfied  with  your  good  dinner-? 
Was  not  the  pea-soup  excellent  ?— and  that  cup  of  nice  hot 
tea !— I  never  relished  any  thing  more  in  my  life.  I  think 
we  should  never  pass  that  house  without  giving  Hannah  a  call 
and  testifying  our  gratitude  for  her  good  cheer."  ' 

Many  times  did  we  stop  to  inquire  the  way  to  Mrs. 

^ '^'  ^^f<^re  ^^e  ascended  the  steep,  bleak  hill  upon  which 

her  house  stood.     At  the  door,  Mr.  T deposited  the  sack 

of  provisions,  and  he  and  young  C went  across  the  road 

to  the  house  of  an  English  settler  (who,  fortunately  for  them 

proved  more  hospitable  than  Hannah  J ),  to  wait  until 

our  errand  was  executed. 

The  house  before  which  Emilia  and  I  were  standing  had 
once  been  a  tolerably  comfortable  log  dwelling.  It  was 
larger  than  such  buildings  generally  are,  and  was  surrounded 
by  dilapidated  barns  and  stables,  which  were  not  cheered  by 
a  solitary  head  of  cattle.  A  black  pine  forest  stretched  away 
to  the  north  of  the  house,  and  terminated  in  a  dismal,  tangled 
cedar  swamp,  the  entrance  to  the  house  not  havmg  been  con- 
structed to  face  the  road. 

The  spirit  that  had  borne  me  up  during  the  journey  died 
within  me.  I  was  fearful  that  my  visit  would  be  deemed  an 
impertinent  intrusion.  I  knew  not  in  what  manner  to  intro- 
duce  myself,  and  my  embarrassment  had  been  greatly  in- 

creased  by  Mrs.  S declaring  that  I  must  break  the  ice, 

for  she  had  not  courage  to  go  in.  I  remonstrated,  but  she 
was  firm.  To  hold  any  longer  parley  was  impossible.  We 
were  standing  on  the  top  of  a  bleak  hill,  with  the  thermometer 


190 


JiOUGHING  IT  IN  THE  BUSK 


f  r 


ii 


many  degrees  below  zero,  and  cxpo^^ed  to  the  fiercest  biting 
of  the  bitter,  cutting  blast.  With  a  heavy  sigh,  I  knocked 
slowly  but  decidedly  at  the  crazy  door.  I  saw  the  curly  head 
of  a  boy  glance  for  a  moment  against  the  broken  \\  indow. 
There  was  a  stir  within,  but  no  one  answered  our  summons. 
Emilia  was  rubbing  her  hands  together,  and  beating  a  rapid 
tattoo  with  her  feet  upon  the  hard  and  glittering  snow,  to  keep 
them  from  freezing. 

Again  I  appealed  to  the  inhospitable  door,  with  a  vehe- 
mence which  seemed  to  say,  «  We  are  freezing,  good  people  ; 
in  mercy  let  us  in  !" 

Again  there  was  a  stir,  and  a  whispered  sound  of  voices 
as^  if  in  consultation,  from  within ;  and  after  waiting  a  few 
minutes  longer— which,  cold  as  we  were,  seemed  an  ago— 
i''e  door  was  cautiously  opened  by  a  handsome,  dark-eyed 
lad  of  twelve  years  of  age,  who  was  evidently  the  owner  of 
the  curly  head  that  had  been  sent  to  reconnoitre  us  through 
the  window.     Carefully  closing  the  door  after  him,  he  stepped 
out  upon  the  snow,  and  asked  us  coldly  but  respectfully  what 
we  wanted.     I  told  him  that  we  were  two  ladies,  who  had 
walked  all  the  way  from  Douro  to  see  his  mamma,  and  that 
we  wished  very  much  to  speak  to  her.     The  lad  answered  us, 
with  the  ease  and  courtesy  of  a  gentleman,  that  he  did  not 
know  whether  his  mamma  could  be  seen  by  strangers,  but  he 
would  go  in  and  see.     So  saying  he  abruptly  left  us,  leaving 
behind  him  an  ugly  skeleton  of  a  dog,  who,  after  expressing 
his  disapprobation  at  our  presence  in  the  most  disagreeablo 
and  unequivocal  manner,  pounced  like  a  famished  wolf  upon 
the  sack  of  good  things  which  lay  at  Emilia's  feet ;  and  (mr 
united  efforts  could  scarcely  keep  him  off. 

"A  cold,  doubtful  reception,  this!"  said  my  friend,  turning 
her  back  to  the  wind,  and  hiding  her  flice  in  her  muff.  "This 
is  worse  thcr*  Hannah's  liberality,  and  the  long,  weary  walk." 


THE  WALK  TO  DUMMER. 


191 


I  thought  so  too,  and  began  to  apprehend  that  our  walk 
had  been  in  vain,  whi'ii  the  lad  ^again  appeared,  and  said  that 
we  might  walk  in,  for  his  mother  was  dressed. 

Emilia,  true  to  her  determination,  went  no  farther  than 
the  passage,  hi  vain  were  all  my  entreating  looks  and  mute 
appeals  to  her  benevolence  and  friendship;  I  was  forced 
to  enter  alone  the  apartment  that  contained  the  distressed 
family. 

I  felt  that  I  was  treading  upon  sacred  ground,  for  a  pitying 
angel  hovers  over  the  abode  of  suffering  virtue,  and  hallows 
all  its  woes.  On  a  rude  bench,  before  the  fire,  sat  a  lady, 
between  thirty  and  forty  years  of  age,  dressed  in  a  thin, 
coloured  muslin  gown,  the  most  inappropriate  garment  for 
the  rigour  of  the  season,  but,  in  all  probability,  the  only 
decent  one  that  she  retained.  A  subdued  melancholy  looked 
forth  from  her  large,  dark,  pensive  eyes.  She  appeared  like 
one  who,  having  discovered  the  full  extent  of  her  misery,  had 
pr.  dly  steeled  her  heart  to  bear  it.  Her  countenance  was 
very  pleasing,  and,  in  early  life  (but  she  was  still  young),  she 
must  have  been  eminently  handsome.  Near  her,  with  her 
head  bent  down,  and  shaded  ])y  her  thin,  slender  hand,  her 
slight  figure  scarcely  covered  by  her  scanty  clothing,  sat  her 
eldest  daughter,  a  gentle,  sweet-looking  girl,  who  held  in  her 
arms  a  baby  brother,  whose  destitution  she  endeavoured  to 
conceal.  It  was  a  touching  sight;  that  suffering  girl,  just 
stepping  into  womanhood,  hiding  against  her  young  bosom 
the  nakedness  of  the  little  creature  she  loved.  Another  fine 
boy,  whose  neatly-patched  clothes  had  not  one  piece  of  the 
original  stuff  apparently  left  in  them,  stood  behind  his  mother, 
with  dark,  glistening  eyes  fastened  upon  me,  as  if  amused, 
and  wondering  who  I  was,  and  what  business  1  could  have 
there.  A  pale  and  attenuated,  but  very  pretty,  delicately- 
featured  little  girl  was  seated  on  a  low  stool  before  the  fire. 


192 


ROUaniNQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


M 


^ 


ill 


^■ 


This  was  old  Jenny's  darling,  Ellie,  or  Eloisc.  A  rude  bed- 
stead,  of  homo  manufacture,  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  covered 
with  a  coarse  woollen  quilt,  contained  two  little  boys,  who 
had  crept  into  it  to  conceal  their  wants  from  the  eyes  of  the 
stranger.  On  the  table  lay  a  dozen  peeled  potatoes,  and  a 
small  pot  was  boiling  on  the  fire,  to  receive  this  their  scanty 
and  only  daily  meal.  There  was  such  an  air  of  patient  and 
enduring  suffering  in  the  whole  group,  that,  as  I  gazed  hearts 
stricken  upon  it,  my  fortitude  quite  gave  way,  and  I  burst  into 
tears. 

Mrs.  N first  broke  the  pamful  silence,  and,  rather 

proudly,  asked  me  to  whom  she  had  the  pleasure  of  speaking. 
I  made  a  desperate  effort  to  regain  my  composure,  and  told 
her,  but  with  much  embarrassment,  my  name  ;  adding  that  I 
was  so  well  acquainted  with  her  and  her  children,  through 
Jenny,  that  I  could  not  consider  her  as  a  stranger ;  that  I 
hoped  that,  as  I  was  the  wife  of  an  oflicer,  and,  like  her,  a 
resident  in  the  bush,  and  well  acquainted  with  all  its  trials  and 
privations,  she  would  look  upon  me  ys  a  friend. 

She  seemed  surprised  and  annoyed,  and  I  found  no  small 
difficulty  in  introducing  the  object  of  my  visit ;  but  the  day 
was  rapidly  declining,  and  I  knew  that  not  a  moment  was  to 
be  lost.  At  first  she  coldly  rejected  all  offers  of  service,  and 
said  that  she  was  contented,  and  wanted  for  nothing. 

I  appealed  to  the  situation  in  which  I  beheld  herself  and 
her  children,  and  implored  her,  for  their  sakes,  not  to  refuse 
help  from  friends  who  felt  for  her  distress.  Her  maternal 
feelings  triumphed  over  her  assumed  indifference,  and  when 
she  saw  me  weeping,  for  I  could  no  longer  restrain  my  tears 
her  pride  yielded,  and  for  some  minutes  not  a  word  was 
spoken.  I  heard  the  large  tears,  as  they  slowly  fell  from  her 
daughter's  eyes,  drop  one  by  one  upon  her  garments. 

At  last  the  poor  girl  sobbed  out,  "  Dear  mamma,  why  con- 


it: 


THE  WALK  TO  DUMMER, 


193 


You  know  that  we  are  nearly  naked,  and 


«eal  the  truth? 
starving." 

Then  came  the  sad  tale  of  domestic  woes : — the  absence 
of  he  husband  and  eldest  son;  the  uncertamty  as  to  where 
the/  were,  or  in  what  engaged  ;  the  utter  want  of  means  to 
procure  the  common  necessaries  of  life  ;  the  sale  of  the  only 
remahiing  cow  that  used  to  provide  the  children  with  food. 
It  had  been  sold  for  twelve  dollars,  part  to  be  paid  in  casli, 
part  m  potatoes ;  the  potatoes  were  nearly  exhausted,  and 
they  were  allowanced  to  so  many  a  day.  But  the  six  dollars 
she  had  retained  as  their  last  resource.     Alas  !  she  had  sent 

the  eldest  boy  the  day  before  to  P ,  to  get  a  letter  out 

of  the  post-office,  which  she  hoped  contained  some  tidings  of 
her  husband  and  son.  She  was  all  anxiety  and  expectation 
—but  the  child  returned  late  at  night  without  the  letter  which 
they  had  longed  for  with  such  feverish  impatience.  The  six 
dollars  upon  which  they  had  depended  for  a  supply  of  food 
were  in  notes  of  the  Fanner's  Bank,  which  at  that  time  would 
not  pass  for  money,  and  which  the  roguish  purchaser  of  the 
cow  had  passed  off  upon  this  distressed  family. 

Oh !  imagine,  ye  who  revel  in  riches — who  can  daily  throw- 
away  a  large  sum  upon  the  merest  toy — the  cruel  disappoint- 
ment, the  bitter  agony  of  tliis  poor  mother's  heart,  when  she 
received  this  calamitous  news,  in  the  midst  of  her  starving 
children.  For  the  last  nine  weeks  they  had  lived  upon  a 
scant7  supply  of  potatoes ; — they  had  not  tasted  raised  bread 
or  animal  food  for  eighteen  months. 

"  EUio,"  said  I,  anxious  to  introduce  the  sack,  which  had 
lain  like  a  nightmare  upon  my  mind,  "  I  have  something  for 
you  "^enny  baked  some  loaves  last  night,  and  sent  them  to 
you  >,       her  best  love." 

The  eyes  of  all  the  children  grew  bright.  "  You  will  find 
the  sack  with  the  bread  in  the  passage,"  said  I  to  one  of  the 


VOL.  ir. 


*« 


'.it 


IH 


V  i 

r 

r  * 
J'  ^ 

r 

I)  i 

I* ' 


nouoniNo  it  in  we  bush. 


Hi 

H. 

it 

Wmmmk 

^ 

1 

MHBHB;v.,}naiai>K|^^^^H 

1 

H|| 

S 

1 

Hkil 

f 

^^HIJ^^Bl^ 

't 

^f 

boys.     He  nishod  joyfully  out,  and  returned  with  Mrs . 

and  the  sack.     Her  bland  and  affectionate  greeting  restored 
us  all  to  tranquillity. 

The  delighted  boy  opened  the  sack.     The  first  thing  ho 
produced  was  the  ham. 

"  Oh,"  said  I,  "  that  is  a  ham  that  my  sister  sent  to  Mrs. 

^ 5  '^'^  ^^  *»er  own  curing,  and  she  thought  that  it  might 

be  acceptable." 

Then  came  the  white  fish,  nicely  packed  in  a  clean  cloth. 

"  Mrs.  C thought  fish  might  be  a  treat  to  Mrs.  N , 

as  she  lived  so  fur  from  the  great  lakes."  Then  came  Jenny's 
bread,  which  had  already  been  introduced.  The  beef,  and 
tea,  and  sugar,  fell  upon  the  floor  without  any  comment. 
The  first  scruples  had  been  overcome,  and  the  day  was  ours. 

"  And  now,  ladies,"  said  Mrs.  N ,  with  true  hospitality,' 

"  since  you  have  brought  refreshments  with  you,  permit  me 
to  cook  something  for  your  dinner." 

The  scene  I  had  just  witnessed  had  produced  such  a  cho- 
king  sensation  that  all  my  hunger  had  vanished.     Before  we 

could  accept  or  refuse  Mrs.  N 's  kind  offer,  Mr.  T 

arrived,  to  hurry  us  off. 

It  was  two  o'clock  when  we  descended  the  hill  in  front  of 
the  house,  that  led  by  a  side-path  round  to  the  road,  and  com- 
menced our  homeward  route.  I  thought  the  four  miles  of 
clearings  would  never  be  passed  ;  and  the  English  Line 
appeared  to  have  no  end.  A^,  length  we  entered  once  more 
the  dark  forest. 

The  setting  sun  gleamed  along  the  ground  ;  the  necessity 
of  exerting  our  utmost  speed,  and  getting  through  the  great 
swamp  before  darkness  surrounded  us,  was  apparent  to  all. 
The  men  strode  vigorously  forward,  for  they  had  been  re- 
freshed  with  a  substantial  dinner  of  potatoes  and  pork,  washed 
down  with  a  glass  of  whiskey,  at  the  cottage  in  which  they 


THE  WALK  TO  DUMMER. 


195 


had  waited  for  us;  ],ut  poor  Emilia  and  I,  faint,  hungry,  and 
foot-sore,  it  was  with  the  greatest  diniculty  wc  could  keep  up. 
I  thought  of  ]iosalind,  as  our  march  up  and  down  the  fallen 
Jogs    recommenced,   and   often   exclaimed   with  her,   "Oh 
Jupiter !  how  weary  are  my  let's  !"  ' 

Night  closed  in  just  as  we  reached  the  beaver-meadow 
Plere  our  ears  were  greeted  with  the  sound  of  well-known 

voices.     James  and  Henry  C had  brought  the  ox-sleigh 

to  meet  us  at  the  edge  of  the  bush.  Never  was  splendid 
equipage  greeted  with  such  delight.  Emilia  and  I,  now  fairly 
exhausted  with  fatigue,  scrambled  into  it,  and  lying  down  on 
the  straw  which  covered  the  bottom  of  the  rude  vehicle,  we 
drew  the  bufialo  robes  over  our  faces,  and  actually  s'lept 

soundly  until  we  reached  Colonel  C 's  hospitable  door 

An  excellent  supper  of  hot  fish  and  fried  venison  was 
smoking  on  the  table,  with  other  good  cheer,  to  which  we  did 
ample  justice.  I,  for  one,  was  never  so  hungry  in  my  life 
We  had  fasted  for  twelve  hours,  and  that  on  an  intensely  cold 
day,  and  had  walked  during  that  period  upwards  of  twenty 
miles.  Never,  never  shall  I  forget  that  weary  walk  to  Dum- 
mer;  but  a  blessing  followed  it. 

It  was  midnight  when  Emilia  and  I  reached  my  humble 
home  ;  our  good  friends  the  oxen  being  again  put  in  requisi- 
tioi.  to  carry  us  there.  Emilia  went  immediately  to  bed, 
from  which  she  was  unable  to  rise  for  several  days.  In  the 
mean  while  I  wrote  to  Moodie  an  account  of  the  scene  I  had 
\N'tnessed,  and  he  raised  a  subscription  among  the  officers  of 
the  regiment  for  the  poor  lady  and  her  children,  which 
amounted  to  forty  dollars.     Emilia  lost  no  time  in  makin- 

a  foil  report  to  her  friends  at  P ;  and  before  a  week 

passed  away,  Mrs.  N and  her  family  were   removed 

thither  by  several  benevolent  individuals  in  the  place.     A 
neat  cottage  was  hired  for  her;  and,  to  the  honour  of  Canada 


196 


ROUOniNQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


"bo  it  spoken,  all  who  could  afT«)r(l  a  donation  gave  cheerfully, 
Farnncrs  left  at  her  door,  pork,  beef,  flour,  and  potatoes ;  tho 
storekeepers  sent  groceries,  and  goods  to  make  clothes  for  tho 
children;  tho  shoemakers  contributed  boots  for  the  boys; 
while  the  ladies  did  all  in  their  power  to  assist  .and  comfort 
the  gentle  creature  thus  thrown  by  Providence  upon  their 
bounty. 

While  Mrs.  N remained  at  P she  did  not  want  for 

any  comfort.  Her  children  were  clothed  and  her  rent  paid  by 
her  benevolent  friends,  and  her  house  supplied  with  food  and 
many  comforts  from  the  same  source.  Respected  and  beloved 
by  all  who  knew  her,  it  would  have  been  well  had  she  never 
left  the  quiet  asylum  where,  for  several  years,  she  enjoyed 
tranquillity,  and  a  respectable  competence  from  her  school ; 
but  in  an  evil  hour  she  followed  her  worthless  husband  to  the 
Southern  States,  and  again  suffered  all  the  woes  which  drunk- 
enness inflicts  upon  the  wives  and  children  of  its  degraded 
victims. 


choorfully. 
tatocs ;  tho 
Lhcs  for  tho 
the  boys; 
nd  comfort 
upon  their 

ot  want  for 
snt  paid  by 
h  food  and 
nd  beloved 
I  she  never 
be  enjoyed 
ler  school ; 
)and  to  the 
;iich  drunk- 
}  degraded 


A  CUANGE  IN  OUR  PROHPEGTS. 


107 


CHAPTER   XII. 


A    CHANGE    IN    OUtt    I'ROSPEOTS. 


TOURING  my  illness 
frequently  come 


1) 


a  kind  neighbour,  who  had  not  only 
to  see  me,  but  had  brought  mo  many 
nourishing  things,  made  by  her  own  fair  hands,  took  a  great 
fancy  to  my  second  daughter,  who,  lively  and  volatile,  could 
not  be  induced  to  remain  quiet  in  the  sick  chamber.  ITio 
noise  she  made  greatly  retarded  my  recovery,  and  Mrs. 
II took  her  homo  with  her,  as  the  only  means  of  obtain- 
ing for  me  necessary  rest.  During  that  winter,  and  through 
the  ensuing  summer,  I  only  received  occasional  visits  from 
my  little  girl,  who,  fairly  established  with  her  new  friends, 
looked  upon  their  house  as  her  home. 

This  separation,  which  was  felt  as  a  great  benefit  at  the 
time,  greatly  estranged  the  affections  of  the  child  from  her 
own  people.  She  saw  us  so  seldom  that  she  almost  regarded 
us,  when  she  did  moot,  as  strangers;  and  I  often  leeply 
lamented  the  hi  uen  i  had  unwittingly  suffered  tho  three- 

fold cord  of  domestic  love  to  be  unravelled  by  absence,  and 
the  flattering  attentions  which  fed  the  vanity  of  a  beautiful 
child,  without  strengthening  her  moral  character.  Mrs. 
H ,  whose  husband  was  weolthy,  was  a  generous,  warm- 
hearted girl  of  eighteen.  Lovely  in  person,  and  fascinating 
in  manners,  and  still  too  young  to  have  any  idea  of  forming 
the  character  of  a  child,  she  dressed  the  Ihtlo  creature  expen- 
sively ;  and,  by  constantly  praising  her  personal  appearance, 


•1 


;    ♦. 


n  Ji 


IS    .  •  I 


198 


ROUamNQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


gave  her  an  idea  of  her  owi:  importance  which  it  took  many 
years  to  eradicate. 

It  is  a  great  error  to  siifier  a  child,  who  has  been  trained  in 
the  hard  school  of  poverty  and  self-denial,  to  be  transplanted 
suddenly  into  the  hot-bed  of  wealth  and  luxury.  The  idea  of 
the  child  being  so  much  happier  and  better  off' blinds  her  fond 
parents  to  the  dangers  of  her  new  situation,  where  she  is  suro 
to  contract  a  dislike  to  all  useful  occupation,  and  to  look  upon 
scanty  means  and  plain  clothing  as  a  disgrace.  If  the  reaction 
is  bad  for  a  grown-up  person,  it  is  almost  destructive  to  a  child 
who  is  incapable  of  moral  reflection.  Whenever  I  saw  little 
Addie,  and  remarked  the  growing  coldness  of  her  manner 
towards  us,  my  heart  reproached  me  for  having  exposed  her 
to  temptation. 

Still,  in  the  eye  of  the  world,  she  was  much  better  situated 
than  she  could  possibly  be  with  us.  Tlie  heart  of  the  parent 
could  alone  understand  the  change. 

So  sensible  was  her  father  of  tliis  alteration,  that  the  first 
time  he  paid  us  a  visit  he  went  and  brought  home  his  child. 

"If  she  remain  so  long  away  from  us,  at  her  tender 
years,"  he  said,  "  she  will  cease  to  love  us.  All  the  wealth 
in  the  world  would  not  compensate  me  for  the  love  of  mv 
cliild."  ^ 

The  removal  of  my  sister  rendered  my  separation  from 
my  husband  doubly  lonely  and  irksome.  Sometimes  the 
desire  to  see  and  converse  with  him  would  press  so  painfully 
on  my  heart  that  I  would  get  up  in  the  night,  strike  a  light, 
and  sit  dowii  and  write  him  a  long  letter,  and  tell  him  all  that 
was  in  my  mind ;  and  when  I  had  thus  unburdened  my  spirit, 
the  letter  was  committed  to  the  flames,  and  after  fervently 
commending  him  to  the  care  of  the  Great  Father  of  mankind, 
I  would  lay  down  my  throbbing  head  on  my  pillow  besido 
our  first-born  son,  and  sleep  tranquilly. 


A  CHANGE  LY  OUR  PROSPECTS. 


199 


It  is  a  strange  fact  that  many  of  my  husband's  letters  to 
me  were  written  at  the  very  time  when  I  felt  those  irresistible 
impulses  to  hold  conmiunion  with  him.     Why  should  we  be 
ashamed  to  admit  openly  our  belief  in  this  mysterious  inter- 
course  between  the  spirits  of  those  who  are  bound  to  each 
other  by  the  tender  ties  of  friendship  and  aflfeetion,  when  the 
experience  of  every  day  proves  its  truth  1     Proverbs,  which 
are  the  wisdom  of  ages  collected  into  a  few  brief  words,  tell 
us  in  one  pithy  sentence  that  "  if  we  talk  of  the  devil  he  is 
sure  to  appear."     While  the  name  of  a  long-absent  friend  is 
in  our  mouth,  the  next  moment  brings  him  into  our  presence. 
How  can  this  be,  if  mind  did  not  meet  mind,  and  the  spirit 
had  not  a  prophetic  consciousness  of  the  vicinity  of  another 
spirit,  kindred  with  its  own  1     This  is  an  occurrence  so  com- 
mon that  I  never  met  with  any  person  to  whom  it  had  not 
happened  ;  few  will  admit  it  to  be  a  spiritual  agency,  but  in 
no  other  way  can  they  satisfactorily  explain  its  cause.     If  it 
were  a  mere  coincidence,  or  combination  of  ordinary  circum- 
stances,  it  would  not  happen  so  often,  and  people  would  not 
be  led  to  speak  of  the  long  absent  always  at  the  moment 
when  they  are  just  about  to  present  themselves  before  them. 
My  husband  was  no  believer  in  what  he  termed  my  fanciful, 
speculative  theories  ;  yet  at  the  time  when  his  youngest  boy 
and  myself  lay  dangerously  ill,  and  hardly  expected  to  live,  I 
received  from  him  a  letter,  written  in  great  haste,  which  com- 
menced with  this  sentence :  "  Do  write  to  me,  dear  S ^ 

when  you  receive  this.  I  have  felt  very  uneasy  about  you 
for  some  days  past,  and  am  afraid  that  all  is  not  right  at 
home." 

Whence  came  this  sudden  fear  ?  Why  at  that  particular 
time  did  his  thoughts  turn  so  despondingly  towards  those  so 
dear  to  him  1  Why  did  the  dark  cloud  in  his  mind  hang  so 
heavily  above  his  home  ]    The  burden  of  my  weary  and  dis- 


I-  % 

if       n1 


If  ■*' 


if 


m  h 


200 


EOUQHING  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


I  ? 


tressed  spirit  had  reached  him  ;  and  without  knowing  of  our 
sufferings  and  danger,  his  own  responded  to  the  call. 

The  holy  and  mystcrioiis  nature  of  man  is  yet  hidden  from 

himself;  he  is  still  a  stranger  to  the  movements  of  that  inner 

life,  and  knows  little  of  its  capabilities  and  powers.     A  purer' 

religion,  a  higher  standard  of  moral  and  intellectual  training, 

may  in  time  reveal  all  this.     Man  still  remains  a  half  re' 

claimed  savage ;  the  leaven  of  Christianity  is  slowly  and  surely 

working  its  way,  but  it  has  not  yet  changed  the  whole  lump, 

or  transformed  the  deformed  into  the  beauteous  child  of  God! 

Oh,  for  that  glorious  day!     It  is  coming.     The  dark  clouds 

of  humanity  are  already  tinged  with  the  golden  radiance  of  the 

dawn,  but  the  sun  of  righteousness  has  not  yet  arisen  upon  the 

world  with  healing  on  his  wings;  the  light  of  truth  still  strug- 

gles  in  the  womb  of  darkness,  and  man  stumbles  on  to  the 

fulfilment  of  his  sublime  and  mysterious  destiny. 

This  spring  I  was  not  a  little  puzzled  how  to  get  in  the 
crops. ^   I  still  continued  so  weak  that  I  was  quite  unable  to 
assist  in  the  field,  and  my  good  old  Jenny  was  sorely  troubled 
with  inflamed  feet,  which  required  constant  care.     At  this 
juncture,  a  neighbouring  settler,  who  had  recently  come 
among  us,  offered  to  put  in  my  small  crop  of  peas,  potatoes,  • 
and  oats,  in  all  not  comprising  more  than  eight  acres,  if  I 
would  lend  him  my  oxen  to  log-up  a  large  fallow  often  acres, 
and  put  in  his  own  crops.     Trusting  to  his  fair  dealing,  I  con- 
sented  to  this  arrangement;   but  he  took  advantage  of  my 
isolated  position,  and  not  only  logged-up  his  fallow,  but  put  in 
all  his  spring  crops  before  he  sowed  an  acre  of  mine.     The 
oxen  were  worked  do^vn  so  low  that  they  were  almost  unfit 
for  use,  and  my  crops  were  put  in  so  late,  and  with  such  little 
care,  that  they  all  proved  a  failure.     I  should  have  felt  this 
loss  more  severely  had  it  happened  in  any  previous  year, 
but  I  had  ceased  to  feel  that  deep  interest  m  the  affairs  of  the 


A   CHANGE  IN  OUR  PROSPECTS.  201 

farm,  from  a  sort  of  conviction  in  my  own  mind  that  it  would 
not  long  remain  my  home. 

Jemiy  and  I  did  our  best  in  the  way  of  hoeing  and  weed- 
ing; but  no  industry  on  our  part  could  repair  the  injury  done 
to  the  seed  by  being  sown  out  of  season. 

We  therefore  confined  our  attention  to  the  garden,  which, 
as  usual,  was  very  productive,  and  with  milk,  fresh  butter' 
and  eggs,  supplied  the  simple  wants  of  our  family.  Emilia 
enlivened  our  solitude  by  her  company,  for  several  weeks 
durmg  the  summer,  and  we  had  many  pleasant  excursions  on 
the  water  together. 

My  knowledge  of  the  uge  of  the  paddle,  however,  was  not 
entirely  without  its  danger. 

One  very  windy  Sunday  afternoon,  a  servant-girl,  who 

lived  with  my  friend  Mrs.  C ,  came  crying  to  the  house, 

and  implored  the  use  of  my  canoe  and  paddles,  to  cross  the 
lake  to  see  her  dying  father.  The  request  was  instantly 
granted;  but  there  was  no  man  upon  the  place  to  ferry  her 
aci-oss,  and  she  could  not  manage  the  boat  herself— in  short, 
h;\.-  never  been  in  a  canoe  in  her  life. 

The  girl  was  deeply  distressed.  She  said  that  she  had  got 
word  that  her  father  could  scarcely  live  till  she  could  reach 
Smith-town;  that  if  she  went  round  by  the  bridge,  she  must 
walk  five  miles,  while  if  she  crossed  the  lake  she  could  be 
home  in  half-an-hour. 

I  did  not  much  like  the  angry  swell  upon  the  water,  but 
the  poor  creature  was  in  such  grief  that  I  told  her,  if  she  was 
not  afraid  of  venturing  with  me,  I  would  try  and  put  her 
over. 

She  expressed  her  thanks  in  the  warmest  terms,  accom- 
panied by  a  shower  of  blessings ;  and  I  took  the  paddles  and 
went  down  to  the  landing.  Jemiy  was  very  averse  to  my 
tempting  Providence,  as  she  termed  it,  and  wished  that  I  might 


VOL,  TI, 


0^ 


'■r 


mi   II 


202 


Rouanma  it  in  the  busk 


''\\ 


'  ! 


i 


get  back  as  safe  as  I  went.     However,  the  old  woman  launched 
the  canoe  for  me,  pushed  us  from  the  shore,  and  away  we 
went.     The  wind  was  in  my  favour,  and  I  found  so  little 
trouble  in  getting  across  that  I  began  to  laugh  at  my  own 
timidity.     I  put  the  girl  on  shore,  and  endeavoured  to  shape 
my  passage  home.     But  this  I  found  was  no  easy  task.     The 
water  was  rough,  and  the  wind  high,  anr^  t;  c  strong  current, 
which  runs  through  that  part  of  the  lak.  to  the  Smidi  rapids,' 
was  dead  anrainst  me.     In  vain  I  laboured  .o  cross  this  current  • 
it  resisted  all  my  efforts,  and  at  each  repulse  I  was  carried 
further  down  towards  the  rapids,  which  were  full  of  sunken 
rocks,  and  hard  for  the  strong  arm  of  a  man  to  stem— to  the 
weak  hand  of  a  woman  their  safe  passage  was  impossible.     I 
began  to  feel  rather  uneasy  at  the  awkward  situation  in  which 
I  found  myself  placed,  and  for  some  time  I  made  desperate 
efforts  to  extricate  myself,  by  paddling  with  all  my  might. 
I  soon  gave  this  up,  and  contented  myself  by  steering  the 
canoe  in  the  path  it  thought  fit  to  pursue.     Afler  drifting 
down  with  the  current  for  some  little  space,  until  I  came  opt 
posite  a  small  island,  I  put  out  all  my  strength  to  gain  the 
land.     In  this  I  fortunately  succeeded,  and  getting  on  shore,  I 
contrived  to  drag  the  canoe  so  far  round  the  headland  that' t 
got  Iier  out  of  the  current.     All  now  was  smooth  sailing,  and 
I  joyfully  answered  old  Jenny's  yells  from  the  landing,  that  I 
was  safe,  and  would  join  her  in  a  few  minutes. 

This  fortunate  manoeuvre  stood  me  in  good  stead  upon 
another  occasion,  when  crossmg  the  lake,  some  weeks  after 
this,  in  company  with  a  young  female  friend,  during  a  sudden 
storm. 

Two  Indian  women,  heavily  laden  with  their  packs  of  dried 
venison,  called  at  the  house  to  borrow  the  canoe,  to  join  their 
encampment  upon  the  other  side.  It  so  happened  that  I 
wanted  to  send  to  the  mill  tliut  afternoon,  and  the  boat  could 


A   CHANOE  IN  OUR  PROSPECTS.  203 

not  be  returned  in  time  without  I  went  over  with  the  Indian 
women  and  brought  it  back.  My  young  friend  was  delighted 
at  the  idea  of  the  frolic,  and  as  she  could  both  steer  and  pad- 
dle, a>id  the  day  was  calm  and  bright,  though  excessively 
warm,  we  both  agreed  to  accompany  the  squaws  to  the  other 
side,  and  bring  back  the  canoe. 

Mrs.  Mupkrat  had  fallen  in  love  with  a  fine  fat  kitten, 
whom  the  children  had  called  "  Buttermilk,"  and  she  begged 
so  hard  for  the  little  puss,  that  I  presented  it  to  her,  rather 
marvelling  how  she  would  contrive  to  carry  it  so  many  miles 
through  the  woods,  and  she  loaded  with  such  an  enormous 
pack ;  when,  lo  !  the  squaw  took  down  the  bundle,  and,  in  the 
heart  of  the  piles  of  dried  venison,  she  deposited  the  cat  in  a 
small  bar-ket,  giving  it  a  thin  slice  of  the  meat  to  console  it 
for  its  close  confinement.  Puss  received  the  donation  with 
piteous  mews ;  it  was  evident  that  mice  and  freedom  were 
preferred  by  her  to  venison  and  the  honour  of  riding  on  a 
squaw's  back. 

The  squaws  paddled  us  quickly  across,  and  we  laughed 
and  chatted  as  we  bounded  over  the  blue  waves,  until  we 
were  landed  in  a  dark  cedar  swamp,  in  the  heart  of  which  we 
found  the  Indian  encampment. 

A  large  party  were  lounging  around  the  fire,  superintend- 
ing  the  drying  of  a  quantity  of  venison  which  was  suspended 
on  forked  sticks.  Besides  the  flesh  of  the  deer,  a  number  of 
muskrats  were  skinned,  and  extended  as  if  standing  bolt  up- 
right  before  the  fire,  warming  their  paws.  The  appearance 
they  cut  was  most  ludicrous.  My  young  friend  pointed  to 
the  muskrats,  as  she  sank  down,  laughing,  upon  one  of  the 
skins. 

Old  Snow-storm,  who  was  present,  imagined  that  she 
wanted  one  of  them  to  eat,  and  very  gravely  handed  her  the 
unsavoury  beast,  stick  and  all. 


>.  i 


r-: 


204 


Rouonma  it  in  the  bush. 


"  Does  the  old  man  take  me  for  a  cannibal  1"  she  said. 
"I  would  as  soon  eat  a  child." 

Among  the  many  odd  things  cooking  at  that  fire  there 
was  something  that  had  the  appearance  of  a  bull-frog. 

"  What  can  that  be  ?"  she  said,  directing  my  eyes  to  the 
strange  monster.     "  Surely  they  don't  eat  bull-frogs !" 

This  sally  was  received  by  a  grunt  of  approbation  from 
Snow-storm ;  and,  though  Indians  seldom  forget  their  dignity 
so  far  as  to  laugh,  he  for  once  laid  aside  his  stoical  gravity, 
and,  twirling  the  thing  round  with  a  stick,  burst  into  a  hearty 
peal. 

"  MuckaJcee  !  Indian  eat  mncJcahee ,?— Ha !  ha !  Indian  no 
eat  muckakeef  Frenchmans  eat  his  hind  legs;  they  say  the 
speckled  beast  much  good.  This  no  muckakee  /—the  liver  of 
deer,  dried — very  nice — Indian  eat  him." 

"I  wiph  him  much  joy  of  the  delicate  morsel,"  said  the 
saucy  girl,  who  was  intent  upon  quizzing  and  examining  every 
thing  in  the  camp. 

We  had  remained  the  best  part  of  an  hour,  when  Mrs. 
Muskrat  laid  hold  of  my  hand,  and  leading  me  through  the 
bush  to  the  shore,  pointed  np  significantly  to  a  cloud,  as  dark 
as  night,  that  hung  loweringly  over  tl  3  bush. 

"  Thunder  in  that  cloud— get  over  the  lake— quick,  quick, 
before  it  breaks."  Then  motionmg  for  us  to  jump  into  the 
canoe,  she  threw  in  the  paddles,  and  pushed  us  from  the  shore. 
^  We  saw  the  necessity  of  haste,  and  both  plied  the  paddle 
with  diligence  to  gain  the  opposite  bank,  or  at  least  the  shelter 
of  the  island,  before  the  cloud  poured  down  its  fury  upon  us. 
We  were  just  in  the  middle  of  the  current  when  the  first  peal 
of  thunder  broke  with  startling  nearness  over  our  heads.  The 
storm  frowned  darkly  upon  the  woods  ;  the  rain  came  down 
in  torrents ;  and  there  were  we  exposed  to  its  utmost  fury  in 
the  middle  of  a  current  too  strong  for  us  to  stem. 


A  CHAmM  IN  OUR  PBOSPEOTS.  205 

"  What  shall  we  do?    Wc  shall  be  drowned  !"  said  mv 

young  W],  turning  her  pale,  tearful  faee  towards  me.        ' 

We  did  so,  and  were  safe;  but  there  we  had  to  remain 

I   us"  r  m       ■  ""'"  '^  """^  ""'  ""^ '"» ""^"'^^  -ffieiontr; 
for  us  to  manage  our  little  eraft.    "  How  do  you  like  bcin» 

upon  the  lake  in  a  storm  like  this  T  I  whispere/to  r^^ZS. 
uig,  drippmg  companion.  ^ 

cannot,  however,  eall  it  a  dry  joke,"  continued  she,  ™i„.i„' 
the  rani  from  her  dress.   "  I  wish  we  were  suspended  over  Jld 

a  Jn  wlr  f?  "''  *"  "'™"'""'  "^™'  *»  "^°-  'ho  lake 
agam  w  thout  a  stronger  arm  than  mme  in  the  canoe  to  steer 
me  safely  thi-ough  the  current 

the  Kev^  W   V/ ,  a  truly  excellent  and  pious  elor%man 

of  the  Enghsh  Church.     The  good,  white-haired  old  man  e. 
pressed  the  khdest  sympathy  in  all  my  trials,  and  s"eng  h" 

2XTZ  "*  "'  ''-™-'   counse'ls  and  S 
Chan  y.     Mr.  W was  a  ti-ue  follower  of  Christ     His 

etv'sa;Tri"1""*"'  '°  '"^  """  denomination;  ad 

!f^f  /  P'^'™^'""'.  ^l^o  met  together  to  listen  to  the  word 
of  hfe  dehvered  to  them  by  a  Qristiau  minister  in  the  wiMer 

turf d  of  ^'T  ly^"'  f«"='>^^.»<'  tho-gh  considenahly 
turned  of  seventy,  hs  voice  was  stUl  excellent,  and  his  man^ 
ner  solemn  and  impressive. 

His  oijy  son,  a  young  man  of  (wenty-eight  years  of  age, 


« 


If  J' 


III  i 


206 


RouQuma  IT  m  the  bvsh. 


had  received  a  serious  injury  in  the  brain  by  falling  upon  a 
turf-spade  from  a  loft  window  when  a  child,  and  his  intellect 
had  remained  stationary  from  that  time.  Poor  Harry  was  an 
innocent  child  ;  he  loved  his  parents  with  the  simplicity  of  a 
child,  and  all  who  spoke  kindly  to  him  he  regarded  as  friends. 
Like  most  persons  of  his  caste  of  mind,  his  predilection  for  pet 
animals  was  a  prominent  instinct.  He  was  always  followed 
by  two  dogs,  whom  he  regarded  with  especial  favour.  The 
moiiicnt  he  caught  your  eye,  he  looked  down  admiringly  upon 
his  four-footed  attendants,  patting  their  sleek  necks,  and  mur- 
muring, "  Nice  dogs — nice  dogs."  Harry  had  singled  out  my- 
self and  my  little  ones  as  great  favourites.  He  .would  gather 
flowers  for  the  girls,  and  catch  butterflies  for  the  boys ;  while 
to  me  he  always  gave  the  title  of  "  dear  aunt." 

It  so  happened  that  one  fine  moruing  I  wanted  to  walk  a 
couple  of  miles  through  the  bush,  to  spend  the  day  with  Mrs. 

C ;  but  the  w^oods  were  full  of  the  cattle  belonging  to 

the  neighbouring  settlers,  and  of  these  I  was  terribly  afraid. 
Whilst  I  was  dressing  the  little  girls  to  accompany  me,  Harry 

W came  in  with  a  message  from  his  mother.     "  Oh," 

thought  I,  "  here  is  Harry  W .     He  will  walk  with  us 

through  the  bush,  and  defend  us  from  the  cattle." 

The  proposition  was  made,  and  Harry  was  not  a  little 
proud  of  being  invited  to  join  our  party.  We  had  accom- 
plished half  the  distance  without  seeing  a  single  hoof;  and  I 
was  beginning  to  congratulate  myself  upon  our  unusual  luck, 
when  a  large  red  ox,  maddened  by  the  stings  of  the  gadflies, 
came  headlong  through  the  brush,  tossing  up  the  withered 
leaves  and  dried  moss  with  his  horns,  and  making  directly 
towards  us.  I  screamed  to  my  champion  for  help  ;  but  where 
-was  he  1 — running  like  a  frightened  chissmunk  dong  the  fallen 
timber,  shout  i  g  to  my  eldest  girl,  at  the  top  of  his  voice, 

"  Run,  K.  tty,  run !— The  bull,  the  bull !    Run,  Katty  !— 


A   CHAKOE  IN  OUR  PROSPECTS.  207 

7T.e  bull,  the  bull  !"_Ieaving  us  poor  creatures  far  behind  in 
tno  chase. 

The  bull,  who  cared  not  one  fig  for  us,  did  not  even  stop 
to  give  us  a  passing  stare,  and  was  soon  lost  among  the 
trees  ;  while  our  valiant  knight  never  stopped  to  see  what  had 
become  of  us,  but  made  the  best  of  his  way  home.  So  much 
lor  taking  an  innocent  for  a  guard. 

The  next  month  most  of  the  militia  regiments  were  dis- 
banded.     My  husband's  services  were  no  longer  required  at 

r and  he  once  more  returned  to  help  to  gather  in  our 

scanty  harvest.  Many  of  the  old  debts  were  paid  off  by  his 
hard-saved  pay ;  and  though  all  hope  of  continuing  in  the 
mihtia  service  was  at  an  end,  our  condition  was  so  much  im- 
proved  that  we  looked  less  to  the  dark  than  to  the  sunny  side 
of  the  landscape.  ^ 

The  potato  crop  was  gathered  in,  and  I  had  collected  my 
store  of  dandelion  roots  for  our  winter  supply  of  coffee,  when 
one  day  brought  a  letter  to  my  husband  from  the  Governor's 

secretary,  offering  him  the  situation  of  sheriff  of  the  V 

district.  Though  perfectly  unacquainted  with  the  difficulties 
and  responsibilitier  of  such  an  important  office,  my  husband 
ooked  upon  it  as  a  gift  sent  from  heaven  to  remove  us  from 
the  sorrows  and  poverty  with  which  we  were  sun-ounded  in 
the  woods. 

Once  more  he  bade  us  farewell ;  but  it  was  to  go  and 
make  ready  a  home  for  us,  that  we  should  no  more  be  sepa- 
rated  from  each  other.  ^ 

Heartily  did  I  return  thanks  to  God  that  night  for  all  his 
mercies  to  us;  and  Sir  George  Arthur  was  not  forgotten  in 
those  prayers. 

From   B ,  my  husband  wrote  to  me  to  make  what 

haste  I  could  in  disposing  of  our  crops,  household  furniture 
stock,  and  farming  implements;  and  to  prepare  mv.plf  ^r.A 


'H 


208 


HOUOJIINQ  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


If    . 


if  1  . 


the  children  to  join  him  on  the  first  fall  of  snow  that  would 
make  the  roads  practicable  for  sleighing.  To  facilitate  this 
object,  he  sent  me  a  box  of  clotliing,  to  miiko  up  for  myself 
and  the  cliildrcn. 

Por  seven  years  I  had  lived  out  of  the  world  entirely ;  my 
person  had  been  rendered  coarse  by  hard  work  and  exposure 
to  the  weather.  I  looked  double  the  age  I  really  was,  and 
my  hair  was  already  thickly  sprinkled  with  gray.  I  clung  to 
my  solitude.  1  did  not  like  to  be  dragged  from  it  to  mingle 
in  gay  scenes,  in  a  busy  town,  and  with  ga}  ly-dressed  people. 
I  was  no  longer  fit  for  the  world ;  I  had  lost  all  relish  for  the 
pursuits  and  pleasures  which  are  so  essential  to  its  votaiies; 
I  was  contented  to  live  and  die  in  obscurity. 

My  dear  Emilia  rejoiced,  like  a  true  friend,  in  my  changed 
prospects,  and  came  up  to  help  me  to  cut  clothes  for  the  chil- 
dren, and  to  assist  me  in  preparing  them  for  the  journey. 

I  succeeded  in  selling  off  our  goods  and  chattels  much 

better  than  I  expected.     ]\[y  old  friend,  Mr.  W ,  who 

was  a  new  comer,  became  .he  principal  purchaser,  and  when 
Christmas  arrived  I  had  not  one  article  left  upon  my  hands 
save  the  bedding,  which  it  was  necessary  to  take  with  us. 


THE  MAGIG  SPELL. 


209 


CHAPTER    XIII. 


THE   MAGIO   SPELL. 

jUEVER  did  eager  British  children  look  for  the  first  violets 
and  primroses  of  spring  with  more  impatience  than  my 
baby  boys  and  girls  watched,  day  after  day,  for  the  first 
snow-flakes  that  were  to  form  the  road  to  convey  them  to 
their  absent  father. 

"Winter  never  means  to  come  this  year.  It  will  never 
snow  again !»  exclaimed  my  eldest  boy,  turning  from  the 
window  on  Christmas-day,  with  the  most  rueful  aspect  that 
ever  greeted  the  broad,  gay  beams  of  the  glorious  sun.  It 
was  like  a  spring  day.  The  little  lake  in  front  of  the  window- 
glittered  like  a  mirror  of  silver,  set  iji  its  dark  frame  of 
pine  woods. 

^  I,  too,  was  wearying  for  the  snow,  and  was  tempted  to 
think  that  it  did  not  come  as  early  as  usual,  in  order  to  dis- 
appoint us.  But  I  kept  this  to  myself,  and  comforted  the 
expecting  child  with  the  oft-repeated  assertion  that  it  would 
certamly  snow  upon  the  morrow. 

But  the  morrow  came  and  passed  away,  and  many  other 
morrows,  and  the  same  mild,  open  weather  prevailed.  The 
last  night  of  the  old  year  was  ushen  1  in  with  furious  storms 
of  wind  and  snow;  the  rafters  of  our  log  cabin  shook  beneath 
the  violence  of  the  gale,  which  swept  up  from  the  lake  like 
a  lion  roaring  for  its  prey,  driving  the  snow-flakes  through 
every  open  crevice,  of  which  there  were  not  a  few,  and  pow- 


|il 


210 


ROmniNO  IT  IN  THE  BUSH, 


1; 


f 


!  i 


h  r 


dcring  the  floor  until  it  rivalled  in  whiteness  the  ground  with- 
out. 

"  Oh,  what  a  dreadful  ni^ht !"  we  cried,  as  we  huddled, 
shivering,  around  the  old  broken  stove.  "  A  person  abroad 
in  the  woods  to-night  would  be  frozen.  Flesh  and  blood 
could  not  long  stand  this  cutting  wind." 

"  It  reminds  me  of  the  commencement  of  a  laughable  ex- 
tempore ditty,"  said  I  to  my  young  friend,  A.  C ,  who 

was  staying  with  me,  "  composed  by  my  husband,  during  the 
fu^*  very  cold  night  we  spent  in  Canada : 

'•  oil,  tho  cold  of  Canada  nobody  knows, 
Tlio  firo  burns  our  shoos  without  warming  our  toes  ; 
Oh,  dear,  what  shall  wo  do? 
Our  blankets  are  thin,  and  onr  noses  are  blue — 
Our  noses  are  blue,  and  our  blankets  are  thin, 
It's  at  zero  without,  and  we  're  Ireezinf?  witiiin! 

i^Ohorus.)  Oh,  dear,  what  sball  wo  dof 

"  But,  joking  apart,  my  dear  A ,  wo  ought  to  be  very 

thankful  that  we  are  not  travelling  this  night  to  B ." 

"  But  to-morrow,"  said  my  eldest  boy,  lifting  up  his  curly 
head  from  my  lap.  "  It  will  be  fine  to-morrow,  and  we  shall 
see  dear  papa  again." 

In  this  hope  he  lay  down  on  his  little  bed  upon  the  floor, 
and  was  soon  fast  asleep  ;  perhaps  dreaming  of  that  eagerly- 
anticipated  journey,  and  of  meeting  his  beloved  father. 

Sleep  was  a  stranger  to  my  eyes.  The  tempest  raged  so 
furiously  without  that  I  was  fearful  the  roof  would  be  carried 
off  the  house,  or  that  the  chimney  would  take  fire.  The 
night  was  far  advanced  when  old  Jenny  and  myself  retired 
to  bed. 

My  boy's  words  were  prophetic ;  that  was  the  last  night 
I  ever  spent  in  the  bush — in  the  dear  forest  home  which  I  had 
loved  in  spite  of  all  the  hardships  which  we  had  endured  siiice 


tl 


TUB  ilAGW  urELL. 


til 


wc  pitched  our  tont  in  tho  backwoods.  It  was  lh„  hirthplaoe 
of  mythreo  boyMhe  school  of  high  rcsolvo  and  encrgclio 
action,  ,n  wuoh  wc  had  learned  to  meet  calmly,  and  sueces.^ 
rully  to  battle  with,  the  ills  „f  ,if„.  ^or  did  I  Ic^ve  it  without 
many  regretful  tears,  to  mingle  once  more  with  a  world  to 
whoso  usages,  dnring  my  long  solitnde,  I  had  become  almost  a 

'3'  "".  '"  '''"'■"=  P™'""  "■•  '''""">  I  f-^lt  »lik,-  indifferent 
When  tho  day  dawned,  tho  whole  forest  scenery  lay  -lit! 

tenng.n  a  mantle  of  da^^ling  white;  tho  sun  shone  brightly 
ho  heavens  were  intensely  blue,  but  the  cold  was  so  severe 

that  every  article  of  food  had  to  bo  thawed  before  we  eo.dd 

get  our  breakfast.  The  very  blankets  that  covered  us  during 
ho  mghtwere  stiff  with  our  frozen  breath.     "I  hope   thf 

rtetghs  won't  come  to...  v  "  I  cried ;  "  we  should  bo  frozen  o, 

the  long  journey." 

About  noon  tw ,  ..leighs  turned  into  our  clearing.     Old 
Jenny  ran  screaming  iuto  tio  room,  "The  masther  has  sent 
for  us  at  last!     The  .!  ighs  are  come!     Fine  large  sleigh 
and  tlbgant  teams  of  horses!     Och,  und  it's  a  eowld  day  for 
the  wee  things  to  lave  the  bush." 

Ue  snow  had  been  a  week  in  advance  of  iis  at  B and 

my  husband  had  sent  up  the  teams  to  remove  us.  n,e'cliil. 
dren  jumped  about,  and  laughed  aloud  for  joy.  Old  .Tcnnv 
did  no  y  h,,Her  to  laugh  or  cry,  but  .she  set  about  Zl 

^J  if  "?  *"■""'"  """^  '^^<'*"S  as  fast  as  o,ir  cold 
nands  would  permit. 

In  tho  midst  of  tho  confusion,  my  brother  arrived,  like  a 

fl  u?r  '"rV"'^'"""'  ""'■"""^  "^  detcrmina'tion  to 

take  us  down  to  B himself  in  his  large  lumbcr-sleiVh 

Uns  was  indeed  joyful  news.    In  less  than  thte  hour   he  det 

together  m  the  empty  house,  strivmg  to  warm  our  hands  over 
the  embers  of  the  fxpiring  fire. 


m  11 


n. 


It  >  ' 


ti- 1 , 


212 


ROUOIima  IT  IN  THE  Bxisn. 


How  cold  and  desolate  every  object  appeared  !  The  small 
windows,  half  blocked  up  with  snow,  scarcely  allowed  a 
glimpse  of  the  declining  sun  to  cheer  us  with  his  serene  aspect. 
In  spito  of  the  cold,  several  kind  friends  had  waded  through 
the  deep  snow  to  say,  "  God  bless  you  ! — Good-bye  ;"  while 
a  group  of  silent  Indians  stood  together,  gazing  upon  our  pro- 
ceedings with  an  earnestness  which  showed  that  they  were  not 
uninterested  in  the  scene.  As  wo  passed  out  to  the  sleigh, 
they  pressed  forward,  and  silently  held  out  their  hands,  while 
the  squaws  kissed  me  and  the  little  ones  with  tearful  eyes. 
They  had  been  true  friends  to  us  in  our  dire  necessity,  and  I 
returned  their  mute  farewell  from  my  very  heart. 

Mr.  S sprang  into  the  sleigh.     One  of  our  party  was 

missing.  "  Jenny !"  shouted  my  brother,  at  the  top  of  his 
voice,  "  it  is  too  cold  to  keep  your  mistress  and  the  little  chil- 
dren  waiting." 

"  Och,  shure  thin,  it  is  I  that  am  comm' !"  returned  the  old 
body,  as  she  issued  from  the  house. 

Shouts  of  laughter  greeted  her  appearance.  The  figure  she 
cut  upon  that  memorable  day  I  shall  never  forget.  My  bro- 
ther dropped  the  reins  upon  the  horses'  necks,  and  fairly 
roared.  Jenny  was  about  to  commence  her  journey  to  the 
front  in  three  hats.  Was  it  to  protect  her  from  the  cold  1 
Oh,  no ;  Jenny  was  not  afraid  of  the  cold  !  She  could  have 
eaten  her  breakfast  on  the  north  side  of  an  iceberg,  and  always 
dispensed  with  shoes,  during  the  most  severe  of  our  Canadian 
winters.    It  was  to  protect  these  precious  articles  from  injury. 

Our  good  neighbour,  IVIrs.  W ,  had  presented  her  with 

an  old  sky-blue  drawn-silk  bonnet,  as  a  parting  benediction. 
This,  by  M'ay  of  distinction,  for  she  never  had  possessed  suoh 
an  article  of  luxury  as  a  silk  bonnet  in  her  life,  Jenny  had 
placed  over  the  coarse  calico  cap,  with  its  full  furbelow  of 
the  same  yellow,  ill-washed,  homely  material,  next  to  her 


THE  MAO  10  SPELL. 


213 


head;  over  this,  as  second  in  degree,  a  sun-burnt  straw  hat, 
J.th  faded  pmk  ribbons,  just  showed  its  broken  rim  and  taw- 
dry trimmnigs;  and,  to  crovvn  all,  and  serve  as  a  guard  to  the 
rest  a  really  serviceable  gray  beaver  bonnet,  once  mine,  tow- 
ered up  as  lugh  as  the  celebrated  crown  in  which  brother 
l^etcr  figures  in  Swift's  "  Tale  of  a  Tub." 

"  Mercy,  Jenny !  Why,  old  woman,  you  don't  mean  to  go 
with  us  that  figure  ?"  ^ 

"  Och,  my  dear  heart !  I've  no  bandbox  to  kape  the  cowld 
from  desthroying  my  illigant  bonnets,"  returned  Jeimy  lay- 
ing  her  hand  upon  the  side  of  the  sleigh.  ' 

"Go  back,  Jenny;  go  back,"  cried  my  brother.  "For 
God  s  sake  take  all  that  tomfoolery  from  off  your  head.  Wo 
sha    be  the  laughing-stock  of  every  vill  ge  we  pass  through." 

Och,  shure  now,  Mr.  S ,  who'd  tiiink  of  looking  at  an 

owld  crathur  like  me !  It's  only  yersel'  that  would  notice  the 
lik'^ " 


e. 


All  the  world,  every  body  wo  Id  look  at  you,  Jenny. 
I  believe  that  you  put  on  those  hats  to  draw  the  attention  of 
all  the  young  fellows  that  we  shall  happen  to  meet  on  the 
road.     Ila,  Jenny !" 

With  an  air  of  offended  dignity,  the  old  woman  returned 
to  the  house  to  rearrange  her  toilet,  aiid  provide  for  the 
safety  of  her  "illigant  bomiets,"  one  of  which  she  suspended 
to  the  strings  of  her  cloak,  while  she  carried  the  third  dan- 
glmg  m  her  hand  ;  and  no  persuasion  of  mine  would  induce 
her  to  put  them  cut  of  aight. 

Many  painful  and  conflicting  emotions  agitated  my  mind, 
but  found  no  utterance  in  words,  as  we  entered  the  forest 
path,  and  I  looked  my  last  upon  that  humble  home  consecra- 
ted by  the  memory  of  a  thousand  sorrows.  Every  object  had 
become  endeared  to  me  during  my  long  exile  from  civilized 
life.    I  loved  the  lonely  lake,  with  its  magnificent  belt  of  dn  rk 


214 


liOUGHING  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


M 


pines  fiighing  in  the  breeze ;  the  cedar  swamp,  the  summer 
home  of  my  dark  Indian  friends ;  my  own  dear  little  garden, 
with  its  rugged  snake-fence,  which  I  had  helped  Jenny  to 
place  with  my  own  hands,  and  which  I  had  assisted  the  faith- 
ful woman  in  cultivating  for  the  last  three  years,  where  I  had 
so  often  braved  the  tormenting  mosquitoes,  black-flies,  and 
intense  heat,  to  provide  vegetables  for  the  use  of  the  family. 
Even  the  cows,  that  had  given  a  breakfast  for  the  last  time  to 
my  children,  were  now  regarded  with  mournful  affection.  A 
poor  labourer  stood  in  the  doorway  of  the  deserted  house, 
holding  my  noble  water-dog.  Rover,  in  a  string.  The  poor 
fellow  gave  a  joyous  bark  as  my  eyes  fell  upon  him. 

"  James  J ,  take  care  of  my  dog." 

"  Never  fear,  ma'am,  he  shall  bide  with  me  as  long  as  he 
lives."  J 

"  He  and  the  Indians  at  least  feel  grieved  for  our  depart- 
ure," I  thought.  Love  is  so  scarce  in  this  world  that  we 
ought  to  prize  it,  however  lowly  the  source  from  whence  it 
flows. 

We  accomplished  only  twelve  miles  of  our  journey  that 
night.  The  road  lay  through  the  bush,  and  along  the  banks 
of  the  grand,  rushing,  foaming  Otonabee  river,  the  wildest  and 
most  beautiful  of  forest  streams.  We  slept  at  the  house  of 
kind  friends,  and  early  in  the  morning  resumed  our  long  jour- 
ney, but  minus  one  of  our  party.  Our  old  favourite  cat, 
Peppermint,  had  made  her  escape  from  the  basket  in  which 
«he  had  been  confined,  and  had  scampered  off,  to  the  great 
grief  of  the  children. 

As  we  passed  Mrs.  H- 's  house,  we  called  for  dear  Ad- 

die.     Mr.  II brought  her  in  his  arms  to  the  gate,  ^\  oil 

wrapped  up  in  a  large  fur  cape  and  a  warm  woollen  shawl. 

"You  are  robbing  me  of  my  dear  little  girl,"  he  said. 
"Mrs.  H is  a    ent;   she  told  me  not  to  part  with  her 


THE  MAGIC  SPELL. 


215 


if  you  should  call;  but  I  could  not  detain  her  without  your 
msent.     Now  that  you  have  seen  her,  allow  me  to  keep  her 
for  a  few  months  longer !" 

Addie  was  in  the  sleigh.     I  put  my  arm  around  her. 
felt  I  had  my  child  again,  and  I  secretly  rejoiced  in  the  pos. 
session  of  my  own.     I  sincerely  thanked  him  for  his  kkidness 

and  Mr.  S drove  on. 

At  Mr.  R 's,  we  found  a  parcel  from  dear  Emilia, 

contaming  a  plum-cake  and  other  good  things  for  the  children. 
Her  kindness  never  flagged. 

We  crossed  the  bridge  over  the  Otonabee,  in  the  rising 
town  of  Peterborough,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Win- 
ter  had  now  set  in  fairly.  The  children  were  glad  to  huddle 
together  in  the  bottom  of  the  sleigh,  under  the  buffalo  skins 
and  blankets ;  all  but  my  eldest  boy,  who,  just  turned  of  five 
years  old,  was  enchanted  with  all  he  heard  and  saw,  and  con- 
tniued  to  stand  up  and  gaze  around  him.  Born  in  the  forest 
which  he  had  never  quitted  before,  the  sight  of  a  town  was 
such  a  novelty  that  he  could  fmd  no  words  wherewith  to  ex- 
press  his  astonishment. 

"  Are  the  houses  come  to  see  one  another  T  he  asked. 
"  How  did  they  all  meet  here  ?" 

The  question  greatly  amused  his  uncle,  who  took  some 
pains  to  explain  to  him  the  difference  between  town  and 
country.  During  the  day,  we  got  rid  of  old  Jenny  and  her 
bonnets,  whom  we  found  a  very  refractory  travelling  com- 
panion ;  as  wilful,  and  far  more  difficult  to  manage  than  a 
young  child.     Fortunately,  we  overtook  the  sleighs  with  the 

furniture,  and  Mr.  S transferred  Jenny  to  the  care  of  one 

©f  the  drivers;  an  arrangement  that  proved  satisfactory  to 
all  parties. 

We  had  been  most  fortunate  in  obtaining  comfortable 
lodgings  for  the  night.    The  evening  had  closed  in  so  intensely 


216 


BOUGHIXO  IT  IN  THE  BUSE. 


cold,  that  although  we  were  only  two  miles  from  C- 


M  ■■ 


Addie  was  so  much  affected  by  it  that  the  child  lay  sick  and 
pale  in  my  arms,  and,  when  spoken  to,  seemed  scarcely  con- 
scious of  our  presence. 

My  brother  jumped  from  the  front  seat,  and  came  round 
to  look  at  her.  "  Tliat  child  is  ill  with  the  cold  ;  we  must 
stop  somewhere  to  warm  her,  or  she  will  hardly  hold  out  till 
we  get  to  the  mn  at  C ." 

We  were  just  entering  the  little  village  of  A ,  in  the 

vicinity  of  the  court-house,  and  we  stopped  at  a  pretty  green 
cottage,  and  asked  permission  to  warm  the  children.  A 
stout,  middle-aged  woman  came  to  the  sleigh,  and  in  the  kind- 
est manner  requested  us  to  alight. 

"  I  think  I  know  that  voice,"  I  said.  "  Surely  it  cannot  be 
Mrs.  S r,  who  once  ke])t  the hotel  at  C ]" 

"  Mrs.  Moodie,  you  are  welcome,"  said  the  excellent  woman, 
bestowing  upon  me  a  most  friendly  embrace ;  "  you  and  your 
children.  I  am  heartily  glad  to  see  you  again  after  so  many 
years.     God  bless  you  all !" 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  kindness  and  hospitality  of  this 
generous  -  roman ;  she  would  not  hear  of  our  leaving  her  that 
night,  and,  directing  my  brother  to  put  up  his  horses  in  her 
stable,  she  made  up  an  excellent  fire  in  a  large  bedroom,  and 
helped  me  to  undress  the  little  ones  who  were  already  asleep, 
and  to  warm  and  feed  the  rest  before  we  put  them  to  bed. 

This  meeting  gave  me  real  pleasure.  In  their  station  of 
life,  I  seldom  have  found  a  more  worthy  couple  than  tliis 
American  and  his  wife ;  and,  having  witnessed  so  many  of 
their  acts  of  kindness,  both  to  ourselves  and  others,  I  enter- 
tained for  them  a  sincere  respect  and  affection,  and  truly  re- 
joiced that  Providence  had  once  more  led  me  to  the  shelter 
of  their  roof. 

Mr.  S was  absent,  but  I  found  little  Mary — the  sweet 


Il 


THE  MAGIC  SPELL. 


217 


child  who  used  to  listen  with  such  delight  to  Hoodie's  flute— 
gro^^^l  up  into  a  beautiful  girl ;  and  the  baby  that  was,  a  fine 
child  of  eight  years  old.  The  next  morning  was  so  intensely 
cold  that  my  brother  would  not  resume  the  journey  until  past 
ten  o'clock,  and  even  then  it  was  a  hazardous  experiment. 

We  had  not  proceeded  four  miles  before  the  horses  were 
covered  with  icicles.  Our  hair  was  frozen  as  white  as  Old 
Time's  solitary  forelock,  our  eyelids  stifl^  a  lU  every  limb 
aching  with  cold. 

"This  will  never  do,"  said  my  brother,  turning  to  me  • 
«  the  children  will  freeze.  I  never  felt  the  cold  more  severe 
tlian  this." 

« Where  can  we  stop  1"  said  I  ;  "  we  are  miles  from 

C ,  and  I  see  no  prospect  of  the  weather  becoming 

milder."  ° 

"Yes,  yes ;  I  know,  by  the  very  intensity  of  the  cold,  that 
a  change  is  at  hand.  We  seldom  have  more  than  three  very 
severe  days  running,  and  this  is  the  third.  At  all  events,  it 
IS  much  warmer  at  night  m  this  country  than  during  the  day ; 
the  wind  drops,  and  the  frost  is  more  bearable.  I  know  a 
worthy  farmer  who  lives  about  a  mile  ahead ;  he  will  give  us 
house-room  for  a  few  hours,  and  wo  will  resume  our  journey 
in  the  evening.  The  moon  is  at  full ;  and  it  will  be  easier  to 
wrap  the  children  up,  and  keep  them  warm  when  they  are 
asleep.     Shall  we  stop  at  Old  Woodruff's  ?" 

"  With  all  my  heart."  My  teeth  were  chattering  with  the 
cold,  and  the  children  were  crying  over  their  aching  fingers 
at  the  bottom  of  the  sleigh. 

A  few  minutes'  ride  brought  us  to  a  large  farm-house,  sur- 
rounded  by  commodious  sheds  and  barns.  A  fine  orchard 
opposite,  and  a  yard  well  stocked  with  fat  cattle  and  sheep, 
sleek  geese,  and  plethoric-looking  swine,  gave  promise  of  a 
land  of  abundance  and  comfort.     My  brother  ran  into  the 


vuL.  n. 


iU 


218 


ROUGHING  IT  IN  THE  BUSH. 


i 


1 1 


house  to  see  if  the  OTTner  was  at  home,  and  presently  re- 
turned, accompanied  by  the  staunch  Canadian  yeoman  and 
his  daughter,  who  gave  us  a  truly  hearty  welcome,  and  as- 
sisted iv  ".^moving  the  children  from  the  sleigh  to  the  cheerful 
fire,  th^ '  made  all  bright  and  cozy  within. 

Our  host  was  a  shrewd,  bnmorous-looking  Yorkshiremn.77. 
His  red,  weather  beaten  face,  and  tall,  athletic  figure,  ^nnt  as 
it  was  with  hard  labour,  gave  indications  of  grei?,t  pe(,"S(>nal 
strength ;  and  a  certain  ]-\iowing  twinkle  in  his  8*;aall,  c'ettr 
gray  eyes,  which  had  beeii  acquired  by  long  dealuig  wivli  tho 
world,  with  a  quiet,  sarcastic  smile  that  luijced  ro>.ind  the 
corners  of  his  large  moutiv,  gave  yoa  the  ideu  of  a  man 
who  could  not  easily  be  deceived  by  his  fellows ;  one  who, 
though  no  rogue  himself,  was  quick  in  ceteeiing  the  roguery 
of  others.  His  mai  uers  were  frank  and  easy,  aud  lie  w?^ 
imch  a  ho'^;;'iiii,bIe  eraertainer  that  you  felt  at  home  wiili  him 
in  a  minute. 

"  Well,  he \>  isro  jou,  Mr,  S ?"  cried  the  farmer,  sha- 

king  my  broihe?  Leartil/  by  the  hand.  "  Toiling  in  the  bush 
still,  eh  T' 

"  Just  in  the  same  place." 

•'  And  the  wife  and  children  V 

"Hearty.  Some  half-dozen  have  been  added  to  the  flock 
since  you  were  our  way." 

"So  much  the  better — so  much  the  better.  The  more 
the  merrier,  Mr.  S ;  children  are  riches  in  this  country." 

"  I  know  not  how  that  may  be ;  I  find  it  hard  to  clothe 
and  feed  mine." 

"  Wait  till  they  grow  up ;  they  will  be  brave  helps  to  you 

then.    The  price  of  labour — the  price  of  labour,  Mr.  S -, 

is  the  destruction  of  the  farmer." 

"  It  does  not  seem  to  trouble  you  much,  Woodrufl',"  said 
my  brother,  glancing  round  the  well-fumished  apartment. 


THE  MAOIC  SPELL. 


210 


sently  re- 
)nian  and 
?,  and  as- 
e  cheerful 

shireman. 
e,  bent  as 
pecsonal 
lail,  clc«r 
\  wivh  tho 
'Oi'nd  the 
)f  a  man 
one  who, 
fcj  roguery 
i  l)e  was 
witli  him 

mer,  sha- 
the  bush 


the  flock 

rhe  more 
country." 
to  clothe 

ps  to  you 
r.  S ., 

ufl',"  said 
nent. 


«  My  son  and  S do  it  all,"  cried  the  old  man.     «  Of 

course  the  girls  help  in  busy  times,  and  take  care  of  the  dairy, 
and  we  hire  occasionally;  but  small  as  the  sum  is  which  is' 
expended  in  wages  during  seed-time  and  harvest,  I  feel  it,  I 
can  tell  you." 

"  You  are  married  again,  Woodruff'?" 

"^No,  sir,"  said  the  farmer,  .ith  a  peculiar  smile;  "not 
yet:"  which  seemed  to  imply  the  probability  of  such  an 
event  "That  tall  gal  is  my  eldest  daughter;  she  manages 
the  house,  and  an  excellent  housekeeper  she  is.  But  I  cannot 
keep  her  for  ever."  With  a  knowing  wink,  «  Gals  will  think 
of  getting  married,  and  seldom  consult  the  wishes  of  their 
parents  upon  the  subject  when  once  they  have  taken  the  notion 

mto  their  heads.     But  'tis  natural,  Mr.  S ,  it  is  natural ; 

we  did  just  the  same  when  we  were  young." 

My  brother  looked  laughingly  towards  the  fine,  handsome 
young  woman,  as  she  placed  upon  the  table  hot  water,  whiskey 
and  a  huge  plate  of  plum-cake,  which  did  not  lack  a  com- 
panion, stored  with  the  finest  apples  which  the  orchard  could 
produce 

The  young  girl  looked  down,  and  blushed. 

"  Oh,  I  see  how  it  is.  Woodruff!  You  will  soon  lose  your 
daughter.  I  wonder  that  you  have  kept  her  so  long.  But 
who  are  these  young  ladies?"  he  continued,  as  three  girls 
very  demurely  entered  the  room. 

"The  two  youngest  are  my  darters,  by  my  last  wife,  who 
I  fear,  mean  soon  to  follow  the  bad  example  of  their  sister 
The  other  farfy,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a  reverential  air,  "  is 
a  particular  friend  of  my  eldest  darter's." 

My  brother  laughed  slyly,  and  the  old  man's  cheek  took  a 
deeper  glow  as  he  stooped  forward  to  mix  the  punch. 

"  You  said  that  these  two  young  ladies.  Woodruff,  were 
by  your  last  wife.     Pray  how  many  wives  have  you  had  ?" 


820 


IWUGHWQ  IT  IN  THE  BUiiK 


In  . 


■ 


"  Only  three.  It  is  impossible,  they  say  in  my  country, 
to  have  too  much  of  a  good  thing." 

"  So  I  suppose  you  think,"  said  my  brother,  glancing  first 
at  the  old  man  and  then  towards  Miss  Smith.  "  Three  wives ! 
You  have  been  a  fortunate  man,  Woodruff,  to  survive  them 
all." 

"Ah,  have  I  not,  Mr.  S %  but  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I 

have  been  both  lucky  and  unlucky  in  the  wife  way,"  and  then 
he  told  us  the  history  of  his  several  ventures  in  matrimony, 
with  which  I  shall  not  trouble  my  readers. 

When  he  had  concluded,  the  weather  was  somewhat 
milder,  the  sleigh  was  ordered  to  the  door,  and  we  proceeded 
on  our  journey,  resting  for  the  night  at  a  small  village  about 

twenty  miles  from  B ,  rejoicing  that  the  long  distance 

which  separated  us  from  the  husband  and  father  was  dimin- 
ished  to  a  few  miles,  afid  that,  with  the  blessing  of  Providence, 
we  should  meet  on  the  moiTOw. 

About  noon  we  reached  the  distant  town,  and  were  met 
at  the  inn  by  him  whom  one  and  all  so  ardently  longed  to 
see.  He  conducted  us  to  a  pretty,  neat  cottage,  which  he  had 
prepared  for  our  reception,  and  where  we  found  old  Jenny 
already  arrived.  With  great  pride  the  old  woman  conducted 
me  over  the  premises,  and  showed  me  the  furniture  "  the 
masther"  had  bought ;  especially  recommending  to  my  notice 
a  china  tea-service,  which  she  considered  the  most  wonderful 
acquisition  of  the  whole. 

"Och!  who  would  have  thought,  a  year  ago,  misthress 
dear,  that  we  should  be  living  in  a  mansion  like  th^j,  ^nd 
ating  off  raal  chancy  1  It  is  but  yestherday  that  we  were 
hoeing  praties  in  the  field." 

"Yes,  Jenny,  God  has  been  very  good  to  us,  and  I  hope 
that  we  shall  never  learn  to  regard  with  indifference  the  many 
benefits  which  we  have  received  at  His  hands." 


'a 


THE  MAGW  SPELL. 


221 


Reader !  it  is  not  my  intention  to  trouble  you  with  the 
sequel  of  our  history.     I  have  given  you  a  faithful  picture  of 
a  life  in  the  backwoods  of  Canada,  and  1  leave  you  to  draw 
from  it  your  own  conclusions.      To  the  poor,  industrious 
workingman  it  presents  many  advantages ;  to  the  poor  gen- 
tienian,  none  !    The  former  works  hard,  puts  up  with  coarse, 
scanty  fare,  and  submits,  with  a  good  grace,  to  hardships  that 
would  kill  a  domesticated  animal  at  home.     Thus  he  becomes 
independent,  inasmuch  as  the  land  that  he  has  cleared  finds 
him  in  the  common  necessaries  of  life ;  but  it  seldom,  if  ever, 
in  remote  situations,  accomplishes  more  than  this.     The  gen- 
tleman can  neither  work  so  hard,  live  so  coarsely,  nor  endure 
so  many  privations  as  his  poorer  but  more  fortunate  neigh- 
bour.    Unaccustomed  to  manual  labour,  his  services  in  the 
field  are  not  of  a  nature  to  secure  for  him  a  profitable  return. 
The  task  is  new  to  him,  he  knows  not  how  to  perform  it  well  • 
and,  conscious  of  his  deficiency,  he  expends  his  little  means 
in  hiring  labour,  which  liis  bush-farm  can  never  repay.     Dif- 
ficulties  increase,  debts  grow  upon  him,  he  struggles  in  vain 
to  extricate  himself,  and  finally  sees  his  family  sink  into  hope- 
less ruin. 

If  these  sketches  should  prove  the  means  of  deterring  one 
family  from  sinking  their  property,  and  shipwrecking  all  their 
hopes,  by  going  to  reside  in  the  backwoods  of  Canada,  I  shall 
consider  myself  amply  repaid  for  revealing  the  secrets  of  the 
prison-house,  and  feel  that  I  have  not  toiled  and  suifered  in 
the  wilderness  in  vain. 


ROUQHUHQ  IT  IN  TOE  BUSH. 


\^^i  • 


THE  MAPLE-TREE. 


A  OAKADIA.N  BONO. 

Mail  t  i  ae  forest— hail 

To  t Ue  rafti        , Jl  an  i  green ; 
It  jri  •' Ji  it.  ireaaure  which  ne'er  shall  fliU 
V'hile  leaves  on  its  boughb  are  seen. 

When  the  moon  shines  bright, 

On  the  wintry  night, 
And  "silvers  the  frozen  snow  : 

And  echo  dwell.* 

On  the  jingling  bella 
As  the  fiieigliB  dart  to  and  fVo ; 

Tlien  it  Brightcnfl  the  mirth 

Of  the  social  liearth 
"With  its  red  and  cheery  glow. 


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Afer,  'mid  the  bosky  forost  shades, 

It  lifts  its  tall  head  on  high ; 
When  the  crimson-tinted  evening  fades 
From  the  glowing  saffr  n  sky; 

When  the  sun's  last  beams 

Light  up  woods  and  streams, 
And  brighten  the  gloom  below ; 

And  the  deer  springs  by 

With  bis  flashing  eye, 
And  the  shy,  swift-footed  doe ; 

And  the  sad  w^uds  chide 

In  the  branuiies  wide, 
With  a  tender  plaint  of  w*  a. 


The  Indian  leans  on  its  rugcred  trunk 
With  tb  ;  ^  w  in  his  red  '•i^ht-hand, 

Aud  mourr.8  that  his  race,  I'co  a  stream,  has  sunk 
From  the  glorious  forest  land. 


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THE  MAPLE-TREE. 

But,  blithe  and  ft-ee, 

The  maple-^'-^e, 
Still  tossos  to  Bu      ndair 

Its  thouHan<..      ^as, 

While  in  com  ticas  nwartiUI 
The  wild  bee  reveU  there ; 

But  soon  not  a  trace 

Of  the  red  man's  nice 
Shall  be  found  In  the  landscape  &hr. 

When  the  snows  of  winter  are  melting  fiuit, 

And  the  nap  begins  to  rise, 
And  the  biting  breath  of  the  frozen  blast 
Yields  to  the  spring's  soft  sighs, 

Then  away  to  the  wood. 

For  the  maple,  good, 
Shall  unlock  its  honied  store ; 

And  boys  and  girls. 

With  their  sunny  curls. 
Bring  their  vessels  brimming  o'er 

With  t'     luscious  flood 

Of  tho  uruve  tree's  blood, 
Into  caldrons  deep  to  pour. 

The  blaze  fVom  the  sugar-bush  gleams  red ; 

Far  down  in  the  forest  dark, 
A  ruddy  glow  on  the  trees  is  shed, 
That  lights  up  their  rugged  bark ; 

And  with  merry  shout, 

The  busy  rout 
Watch  tho  sap  as  it  bubbles  high ; 

And  they  talk  v>f  the  cheer 

Of  the  coming  ye  r, 
And  the  jest  and  the  song  pass  by; 

And  bravo  tales  of  old 

Round  the  fire  are  told, 
That  kindle  youth's  beaming  eye. 


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Hurra !  •"  >r  the  sturu^  maple-tree ! 

Long  may  its  green  branch  wave ; 
In  native  strength  sublime  and  IVoe, 

Moot  emblem  for  the  brave. 


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ROVomNQ  IT  m  THE  BUSH. 

May  tho  nation'n  peaoo 
WitJi  JtH  (jrrowth  increase, 
And  iU  worth  be  widely  Bpread; 
For  it  lifts  not  in  vain 
To  the  sun  and  rain 
ItB  tall,  majestic  head. 
May  it  grace  our  soil, 
And  reward  oar  toll, 
Till  the  nation's  heart  ia  dead  I 


Reader!  my  task  is  ended. 


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THS   SNA. 


8t.r.olyp.a  b,  BauM  4  B.ot«.m,  No.  SO  NorU.  WUIi^...,™...' 


